Deep Blue
by Devyn Lyonesse
Summary: Darien is upset after a bout of quicksilver madness, and turns to Bobby Hobbes for comfort
1. Deep Blue

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Title: "Deep Blue"

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Author: Devyn Lyonesse

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Email address: dlyonesse@hotmail.com

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Fandom: Invisible Man

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Disclaimers: The usual. Don't own 'em, wish I did. Yadda, yadda.

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Category: Slash, romance, drama, episode coda, angst

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Pairing: Darien/Bobby 

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Rating: R 

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Spoilers: For "Tiresias"

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Archiving: Anyone who wants to, please ask me first.

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Series note: This is story #1 in my slash series, "Thief of Hearts". 

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Summary: Darien is upset after a bout of Quicksilver madness, and turns to Bobby Hobbes for comfort.

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Author's notes: This is set after the events in "Tiresias", in a slightly alternate universe in which Bobby Hobbes doesn't like the ocean, and Darien reacts differently to his attack on Hobbes. Otherwise, the boys and their environment are pretty much the same as they are on TV. There's romance, angst, some humor and lots of introspection. Like every other author out there, I love feedback. So if you like this, please let me know.

December 2001

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Deep Blue

© Devyn Lyonesse

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Me, I never did drugs before. I was way too smart for that. Besides, I never needed to. Theft was my drug. The excitement of high-class burglary, of getting in and out with the goods without getting caught -- what a rush! It's almost as good as sex. I was addicted to that, not to a chemical; and I was kinda proud of it. I always felt superior to addicts of the more traditional kind, 'cause I didn't have to pay for my thrills. Paying's for those who are mentally challenged, you know what I'm saying? I didn't want a monkey on my back, or track marks on my arms, or the sweating and shaking and pain between fixes, or the constant scramble to pay for them, or any of the other, gross trappings of an addict's life. 

Compared to that, being a thief was easy. I had to work nights, but not every night; and I didn't have to wear a suit and tie or work long hours. I made good money, too, and had lots of free time to spend it, and lovers to spend it on. It was great. The proverbial win-win situation. Talk about having your cake and eating it, too. The way I looked at it, I was being paid to have fun. It doesn't get much better than that. 

Oh, yeah. I was one smug, self-satisfied thief.

Which just goes to show you, like the Bible says: "Pride goeth before a fall." A bad fall, in my case. 'Cause when I fell, I fell hard. In fact, I'd say that in the last year or so, I've been paid back for just about every bit of arrogance I ever felt. I went to prison, lost my brother, then got stuck working for the government. That's right -- the same people who brought you Waco and the IRS How low can you go? 

And if all that wasn't enough, now I've also got the mother of all monkeys on my back. I do a drug now, all right. In fact, I've become addicted. Not to what you'd expect, though. It's not crack, crank, heroin, or even Exstacy. No, my monkey's name is "counteragent".

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Doesn't sound fun, does it? Trust me, it isn't. And I didn't start taking it for kicks, or even by choice. _No, I need it because this whacked Swiss terrorist named Arnaud infiltrated my brother Kevin's invisibility project. In order to try to control whoever had it, he messed up the Quicksilver gland that lets me turn invisible, so it actually generates a kind of poison after awhile. When that happens, first I get these nasty headaches. Then the pain starts. It's blinding. Agonizing. It feels like someone's ramming a hot poker into the back of my head, and it makes me convulse. If I don't get the antidote, things get even worse. My eyes turn red, and I get violent. Psychotic. Murderous. So I don't just need a drug to take away the pain, I need it to keep from going crazy. That antidote is counteragent. _

Sometimes I don't think of it as a monkey, though. When I'm feeling particularly resentful, sometimes it seems more like a snake. Partly because I hate being dependent on it, and partly because every time I get that needle in my arm, and they pump that drug into me, it stings like the bite of a rattler. In more ways than one. I've even got a striking little tattoo to match: this snake coiled up on my wrist, that lets my Keeper know when I need a fix by changing color from green to red. 

Very catchy. Very graphic. A corporate logo, for the company addict. 

Needless to say, I hate it. But it does have its uses. By this morning, it'd gotten pretty red, a signal that I need another fix. So I swallowed my pride for the hundredth time and got another shot, like a good little government-sponsored junkie. Your tax dollars at work. Heart warming, isn't it? My arm still stings a bit from the needle, and from the cold bite of the counteragent sliding into my veins. 

God, I hate that stuff! 

Even now, hours later, when I'm sprawled out on my bed in my apartment, there's still a tiny little red needle mark on the inside of my elbow. I raise my arm and stare at it gloomily. _No more being paid to have fun. Now I've got track marks_. _Now I'm an addict, a fucking junkie! What a joke._

I rub my arm and sigh. I try to tell myself it's only that: just a bad joke. Something I can slough off, something I don't have to think about. _But I can't help it. I can't laugh it off, and I can't forget it. I hate needles. Always did. So every time -- I mean, every single goddamn time my Keeper sticks that needle into my arm -- I feel this burn. A nasty mixture of physical and emotional pain that blasts through my veins right along with the drug. It's part revulsion, part frustration, but most of all, it's rage. Anger at the people behind my addiction. The ones who caused my need, and the ones who feed it. Fury like you wouldn't believe. _

They did this to me! Arnaud and the Agency. He made me crave a drug, made me need one to keep from going insane; and they make sure I get it, so I can never leave them. But I never wanted this. It fucking disgusts me! The needle, the drug, the craving, the dependency -- all of it! I became a thief partly because breaking the rules was a kind of freedom. I hated the thought of being tied to routine, and a nine-to-five job. Guess you could even say it was my love of freedom that eventually landed me in prison. Several times. Ironic, huh? But when my brother Kevin told me he could get me out if I'd participate in his latest science project, I thought things were looking up. Being a human guinea pig seemed better than having large, overly friendly tattooed guys making free with me, if you catch my drift.

Or so I thought. 

But Kevin's baby, his precious Quicksilver gland project that got me out of prison and enabled me to turn invisible, ended up being a disaster. After he implanted it in my brain, Kevin got murdered by Arnaud, and I wound up being forced to work for a secret government agency --and a total slave to a chemical, too. 

Fuck it! Fuck them all, for doing it to me!

I take a deep breath. Tell myself to calm down. Remind myself that it wasn't my brother's fault. Kevin didn't know what Arnaud did to fuck up the gland, and if he had, he would've fixed it. And my new employer, the Agency, isn't all bad_. _

But the truth is, they ain't exactly my knight in shining armor, either. 

Because the Agency won't undo the damage Arnaud did, or free me from my addiction to counteragent. They say they can't. Not yet, anyway. _Not until my Keeper, the doctor/scientist assigned to monitor my health, figures out how to remove the gland without killing me. Kevin was the only one who knew how to do that, but he's dead, so now I'm stuck with_ _this. The life of a junkie, the life of a slave. I have to keep working for the Agency as an invisible spy, until they figure out how to get the gland out again. My Keeper says she's working on it, but I'm not sure if I can trust her. After all, I'm a big asset to them just the way I am, so it's not exactly in their best interests to help me. So for all I know, my sexy blonde doctor could be playing Solitaire on that computer of hers when I'm not around, rather than researching ways to remove the Quicksilver gland. I'm afraid I'll be in a fucking wheelchair in a fucking nursing home, before they get the damn thing out of my head! _

My chest tightens again, and my hands clench into fists. I feel myself filling with hate, with a helpless rage that makes me shake. _Deep breaths, dammit. Take deep breaths, and chill! There's nothing you can do about it!_

I unclench my fists and try to calm down, but it doesn't help much. _Enough time's gone by, I should be adjusting to all this by now. I know that. Instead, it's getting harder and harder_. _I hate my life lately. Except for my partner Bobby Hobbes, I hate just about every fucking thing about it._

Especially the isolation. It's murder. I can't see any of my old friends anymore. Can't go to the places I used to go, 'cause my friends might be there and ask all sorts of awkward questions I can't answer. Or worse, ask me to do the kind of fun, larcenous things I'm not allowed to do anymore. So I don't get out much, and I don't pick up women anymore. I tend to just go to work, then come back here and read books, or listen to music. The only action I get is right-handed, if you know what I mean. Except for Hobbes, the Fat Man, his soldiers at the Agency and my Keeper, I hardly even talk to anyone else anymore. I might as well be living in a frigging monastery.

In other words, I don't really have a life. Outside of being a junkie and risking my neck for the government, that is. Which, of course, is no life at all.

If it weren't for Hobbes, I'd go out of my mind. I may anyway. The scary thing is, I'm not sure anyone would notice if I did. I mean, everyone at the Agency's seen what happens to me now, when I miss my regular dose of counteragent and go Quicksilver mad. So if I started foaming at the mouth and throwing furniture around, they'd probably just figure I'd gotten a bit testy 'cause I missed my latest shot, and bundle me off to my Keeper for another one.

Fuck. Did I mention that I hate my life?

Okay, so I'm feeling sorry for myself. I know. But I have damn good reasons to. Still, it's pretty pathetic, when your only accomplishment is piling up a really long list of reasons why your life sucks. 

So I consider the obvious remedies for all the suckiness. _Sex first_. _Why bother with the rest, when you can have the best, right?_ _Yeah. I should call someone. I haven't gotten laid since --_

Oh god. Has it really been that long? 

You know you're feeling crappy when even thinking about sex is depressing. This gland is turning me into a monk. Screw that! I'm too young. 

So for a minute, I lie there thinking of phone numbers. Women I dated after Casey left me. Guys I knew before her…. _The Agency doesn't exactly make celibacy a requirement, after all. I've got a phone and a car, and my free time is more or less my own. I've had plenty of chances to contact old lovers, or find new ones, if I wanted to. I do -- but the thing is, just having the means to get around and communicate with people doesn't necessarily make it safe. I haven't even tried calling anyone I used to know, because I feel uneasy about it._

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For one thing, it would only lead to lies. I can't tell anyone what I do, or about the damn gland in my head, or this definitely hard-to-miss tattoo on my wrist, either. I can't really say a word about my whole wonderful, glamorous, exciting new life as the Invisible Man. So even if I just had someone over for the night, I'd have to lie about something. _And I don't want to. It's not like I didn't lie to lovers sometimes when I was a thief, but this is different. For one thing, I'm not as fond of lies anymore as I used to be. Maybe it's because this new job requires enough secrets and lies; to have to tell more to get laid would just -- depress me, more than I already am. _

But it's not just that. I'm also afraid that anyone who gets involved with me might get hurt. My life is dangerous now. Really dangerous. I can't be sure that even a one-night-stand or a hooker would be safe with me. How do I know that someone won't kick down my door while I'm having sex, to try to kidnap me or something, and shoot whoever I'm with in the process?

Answer: I don't know. I can't be sure about that, and I don't wanna risk someone else's life just for a fuck, either. Even I'm not that selfish. Though there are times, like tonight, when the loneliness gets so bad that I'm sure as hell tempted. If anyone had ever told me celibacy was gonna be part of this deal, I never would've taken it. Even prison was better than this. At least there, I got lots of sex….

Then I get this dark flash of memory. A prison memory that reminds me that even my new life of reluctant, self-imposed celibacy is, in fact, better than some of the shit that happened in there. 

I push that ugly memory away. Force my thoughts back to my current problem: how to safely get laid in my dangerous new career as a government spy. _Funny. Never thought I'd be worrying about "safe sex"_, I think sourly. _But the gland gives that a whole new meaning for me. I just haven't been able to figure out a way to do it yet. I've racked my brain, but haven't come up with a plan yet. And I'm not exactly getting any divine inspiration about it at the moment, either. _

I heave another sigh. _So I guess sex isn't such a good idea right now, after all. Doesn't matter. I'll get there. I'll get laid eventually. _

I'd better. 'Cause I'm getting so desperate, even those beds in crummy motels with "Magic Fingers" are starting to seem good to me now.

In the meantime, moving right along … _on to remedy number two. Food_. _That's safe. At least I won't have to lie to it._

I get up, go to my refrigerator and stare through its clear glass door, like I don't already know what I'm gonna see. Beer. More beer. A couple of mummified pieces of pizza, left over from the last time Bobby came by. I scratch my head, trying to remember. _That had to be about a week ago. Or was it two? _I look closer. _Must've been two. There's something growing on the pizza. Yecch!_

All right. So maybe food wasn't such a hot idea, either. I'm not really very hungry, anyway.

But I'm not out of options yet. There's still remedy number three for the blues: Friendship. _When all else fails, call a friend, right? If you can't bitch to them, who can you bitch to? Only for me, it's not friends plural anymore. I only have one friend now, and that's Hobbes. Nutty as he is, he is my friend. Hell, he's my best friend._

Okay. So I'll call Bobby.

It's amazing, what that little decision does for me. Just like that, my gray skies lighten up. Just like that, I feel better. Safer. Less alone. Just from thinking about him. _Maybe he's a little paranoid, but being around him is a kick._ _It's the only thing that gets my mind off the cesspool my life's turned into, lately. _

Wonder what Hobbes would say, if he knew he's become my own personal cure for Things in My Life that Suck? 

I don't know, but just thinking about him makes me smile. So even though I know I shouldn't, I go over and pick up the phone._ I've been calling him a lot lately, on nights like this. Way too much, really. But I can't help it. I can't take being alone like this all the time, and Hobbes is the only one I can talk to about it. The only one who knows what it's like for me. The only one who shares all my secrets. Well, most of 'em anyway. He's the only one I don't have to lie to._

The only one I --

Wait. Don't. Don't go there, okay? 

I tell myself that, but it's too late. _I've known for a while now that my feelings for Hobbes are way too strong. They've gone way past friendship, and turned into something else entirely. Okay, I admit it: I have the hots for him. Every time he comes near me, I just wanna grab him. Kiss him. Make him purr, make him scream. Fuck him senseless._

It's crazy. I know that. Hobbes is a bit paranoid. Plus, he's macho. A real tough guy, an ex-Marine. Of course, for me, that's a turn-on. You spend enough time in prison, and tough guys start to look good. Trust me. 

Bobby Hobbes looks very, very good to me. But, like everything else in my life lately, that presents a problem: 'cause he's straight. He was married, and it's obvious that he still loves women, 'cause he flirts with my Keeper all the time. Actually, he pretty much flirts with anything in a skirt that crosses his path. He's also a trained Agent, which means that he knows lots of ingenious ways to kill people. Oh, and did I mention that, aside from being straight, paranoid and deadly, Bobby's also got a bit of a temper? So if I come on to him, he's liable to punch me, or worse. He might hang me up by my heels for several days, and do nasty, inventive, unspeakable things to my helpless carcass with a hunting knife. 

If you think I'm exaggerating, you don't know Bobby Hobbes.

But I do. So you'd think I'd know better. Actually, I do. I know lusting after Hobbes is crazy, in more ways than one. I'll probably just wind up in trouble for it. Or maybe in the hospital. Still, I can't stop thinking about him. 

Maybe it's because Hobbes isn't like anyone I've ever known. When we first met, I didn't even like him. I thought he was this overly patriotic, pill-popping, close-minded little fruitcake. And he had equally affectionate nicknames for me, like: "you good-for-nothing, snot-nosed punk". Saying our dislike was mutual would be putting it mildly. 

But Hobbes had a way of getting under my skin that made me curious. I studied him like a puzzle, trying to figure out why he made me so angry. The funny thing was, once I really started paying attention to him instead of just getting pissed off and trying to piss him off in return, I saw that there were things about him I liked. 

His sense of humor, for one. Once I stopped trying to drive him up the wall, I discovered that Hobbes is as whacked as I am. Every bit as sarcastic, once you get him going. I started to want to get him going, started joking around with him; and we started having fun together. Teasing each other, instead of ragging on each other all the time. 

Don't get me wrong, we still piss each other off. All the time. Even yell at each other once in awhile. It's not like we started to see eye-to-eye overnight. I just found that Hobbes could do more than just make me angry. He could also make me laugh, make me feel good. He understands me -- more, I think, in some ways, than my own brother did. He even offered a rough kind of camaraderie, which no one else around me seemed to even want to try to do. 

Hobbes was the first one to put a name to it. He just casually started calling me "my friend."

That was a revelation. Hobbes wanted to be my friend. In fact, he assumed he already was. That made me think twice about him. Made me realize that he was right. I was starting to connect with him, in a way I never had with anyone before. I started to see that he was more than just this little Agency robot. Sure, he's good with a gun, deadly at hand-to-hand combat, and damn good at figuring out all the weird angles in our cases, too. Just call him Super-spy. But there's more to him than that. Once I started studying him, I saw lots of good qualities in him. Bravery and loyalty, for starters. Hobbes is always there for me, even when no one else at the Agency is. He's utterly fearless under fire, and he's thrown himself in harm's way to protect me more times than I can count. He always looks out for me, even when I really piss him off. He doesn't just say I'm his friend, he backs it up in a way no one else ever did. That really impressed me. I never had a friend like that when I was a thief. Hell, I've never had a friend like that before at all, in my whole life. 

But if you'd told me six months ago that Hobbes was gonna become my best friend, I'd've laughed. And if you'd even suggested that I'd fall for him, I'd've said you were crazy. This whole weird thing with him, it kinda snuck up on me. One thing led to another, I guess. The more I studied him, the more I liked him. The more I liked him, the more I started to trust him.

Then somehow, liking turned to lust. 

One day, I found I wasn't just laughing at his jokes, I was checking out his body, too. Looking at his eyes. He's got terrific eyes: intense, alert, restless. They're always moving, scoping out his surroundings, watching for danger. The eyes of a soldier. At first, I just thought they were this average medium brown, but one day when we were standing out in the sun, I noticed that Bobby's eyes have all these flecks of amber in them. In a strong light, they warm up and turn almost golden. It's so cool. Sometimes when we're out on a mission, I'll stop him outside the van and give him a hard time, just to watch the sun work its magic on his eyes.

Then there's his face. It's tough: broad cheekbones, square jaw. A mouth that's usually set in this stern line that says, "Don't mess with me." He thinks his nose is too big, but I think it suits him. He's self-conscious about his thinning hair, too, but I like it. On him, balding works. It's even sexy, because the hair he's got left is great. It's dark, shiny and sexy. And every once in awhile, when he forgets to get it trimmed, it curls a little at the back of his neck. I love that. That little hint of something wild, something untamed, in Hobbes the ex-Marine. Every time I see it, I wanna touch that little wayward curl. So far, the thought of that big knife he carries has stopped me, but one of these days….

His hair's not the only thing I wanna touch, either. Hobbes has got a great body, too. He's muscular. Compact. Even though he's shorter than me, he's not a skinny beanpole like I am. He's got broad shoulders. Good biceps, too. He's solid, powerful, and he always stands really straight. He looks like what he is: a soldier, a warrior. It shows, and secretly, I think it's hot.

I smile to myself, at my own helpless crush. _Jeez, I sound like a lovestruck teenager! Dear Diary: Today, Bobby blinked his golden eyes at me by the van, and my heart fluttered._

It's true, but it sure sounds stupid. So, enough with the breathless descriptions of my partner's physical attributes. Let's just say that Bobby Hobbes turns me on, big time. That once I started watching his eyes, his hands, and the tight muscles of his ass, I felt that old stirring in the pit of my stomach again. That hunger for a man, a tough, powerful man. It's more than just lust, though. If all I wanted was some muscle-bound tough guy, I could just cruise the nearest leather bar. But I want more than that. Impossible as it seems, dangerous as it is, I want Bobby Hobbes. Not just his body, but what he is inside, too. 

Which means that either I'm going nuts, or I've changed. I don't know if it's because of Hobbes, or the gland, or my dangerous new job, but my perspective's definitely different. I want different things, admire different things than I used to. Things like loyalty, courage, and protectiveness, for instance. I used to call 'em Boy Scout virtues. I used to sneer at them. But Bobby's showed me that they're good qualities. He's taught me to respect them. Somehow, he's even made me want them. Want him. I don't just wanna take his body, don't just want a quick fuck like I used to. That's not enough for me anymore. Now I wanna storm the Citadel. Plant my flag on Hobbes, so no one else can touch him. I want a piece of his heart. A place in it.

But with a guy like that, you have to earn it. Work for it. He won't just fall into your lap. Even though that is one of my favorite fantasies. Bobby curled up in my lap, with his hand --

Oh. Sorry. What was I saying? Oh yeah -- the perils of pursuing Bobby. Right. The thing is, Hobbes isn't an easy guy to get to know; and trying to seduce him is something else again. But even though Work is against my nature, I'm working on it. As best I can anyway, in between dodging bullets and watching Bobby pop Zoloft like candy. It's not easy, trying to seduce your own partner when you're both supposed to be straight, one of you is a bit mental, and you've both got a ruthless, manipulative boss like the Official watching your every move. Probably with hidden video cameras. It's a bit of a challenge, even for me.

But when I want things, I really, really want 'em. In fact, I obsess about 'em. It's one of the reasons I became a thief. It seemed like an easy way to get those things I really, really wanted, with a minimum of effort. Unfortunately, people aren't as easy to acquire as things. But I'm doing my best to get Bobby Hobbes. I wear really tight pants and T-shirts, flash him my best sexy grin, and just generally try to get under his skin as much as possible, without making him mad enough to knife or shoot me. I figure the annoyance factor made me notice him, right? So maybe it'll work both ways. Well, that and my oh-so-charming smile. And the T-shirts.

But I'm starting to wonder if I'm losing my touch, or if Hobbes really is hopelessly straight. Because even though we've gotten close now, close enough that Bobby trusts me enough to come by my place after work sometimes, and even lets me into his apartment now and then, we're not nearly close enough for me. In other words, Hobbes hasn't dragged my willing body to the nearest bed and ravished me yet. No, we're just close enough that his seeming obliviousness is starting to gnaw at me. _Lately I feel hungry whenever I'm around him, and not for food. _

In the old days, when I was a thief, I'd've worked that hunger off with someone else. But the new me isn't interested. Even if I could figure out a way to arrange something hot and sweaty with some guy who resembled Bobby without getting the poor schmuck killed, it wouldn't really satisfy me. Somehow, the longer I'm around Hobbes, the less I want a substitute. _Now that I know him, it's like no one else will do._

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I know. I'm obsessing. But that's me: Mr. Obsessive Ex-Thief Who's in Love With His Partner. _If I could just tell him, just somehow find out if he could ever --_

Then my conscience kicks in again. _Don't even think about it. Your life is already screwed up enough, without turning the one friend you have left against you. Forget it!_

And there's another voice in the back of my mind. One that's even worse than my conscience. A dark, scornful voice that sneers: _You ought to count your blessings. You're lucky Hobbes is even willing to talk to you, outside of work. It's even more amazing that he still wants to be your partner, after you tried to kill him!_

I'd love to tell that voice to shut the hell up, but I can't. Because I know it's the voice of truth. I put down the phone as the pain wells up in me. The pain of what I did to Bobby, to my own partner. 

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Except for my aunt Celia, who I hardly ever see, Hobbes is the only person in the world that I really care about anymore. Maybe I've started to care too much about him, because that pain's always there now. Like a worm crawling around inside, eating away at me. Destroying my sense of who I am. _I mean, even when I was a thief, I had standards. Things I wouldn't do. Lines I wouldn't cross. I didn't carry a gun, and I didn't hurt people. I prided myself on that_. _The distinction between a thief and a murderer may not seem like much to you, but to me, it counted._

Even though I was a thief, it was a way I could convince myself that I was still a good guy. The only way.

But that was me before Quicksilver, and the Agency, and this goddamn Invisibility gland. Outside of a few unavoidable, defensive scrapes in prison, that Darien had never hurt anyone. But Arnaud took even that away from me. Thanks to him, I've gone so far over that line that I hardly even recognize myself anymore. Thanks to him, that non-violent Darien disappeared. Darien Fawkes the Invisible Man -- he's a different story. Because of the Quicksilver madness Arnaud engineered, that Darien put his hands around his own partner's neck one day, and tried to choke him to death.

That's right -- I almost killed Bobby.

I shudder, remembering that. I close my eyes, but it doesn't do any good. I can't make the memory go away. It's always there, the center of my own personal private hell. _I can't even tell myself that it couldn't happen again. Because I know it could._ _And next time, Hobbes might not be so lucky. Next time, I might kill him._

That idea turns me colder than when I go invisible_._

I told him I was sorry, and he said he understood, that it wasn't my fault. But my apology wasn't enough. How can you ever make up for trying to kill your best friend? 

I guess one way would be to avoid him for his own good. As long as I've got this gland in my head, I'm like this six-foot-something ticking time bomb, so I shouldn't even go near Hobbes when we're not working. 'Cause I don't want to hurt him. I'd never want to do that. 

See, I have this theory about Bobby Hobbes: I think he's been hurt a lot already. He wants everyone to think he's tough and strong; and in some ways, he is. But I've known him long enough now, and studied him hard enough, to see that his toughness is partly a defense. I think Hobbes has had kind of a rough life. He's the product of hard, even brutal schools: the military, then Intelligence. If he wasn't paranoid to begin with, they must've made him that way. Plus, he's got an ex-wife who he adored, but who won't even talk to him; and he got bounced from one intelligence agency to another until he wound up working for the Official, who treats him like dirt. Who's constantly making it clear that I'm the important half of our partnership, even though Bobby's the one with all the experience, guts and training. All that must've taken its toll on Hobbes. I wonder if that's partly why he takes all those pills. The guy's gotta have scars. He's too proud to talk about them, or even admit to them. But I think they're there, all the same. 

So I don't wanna make things worse for him. Don't wanna complicate his life any more than it already is. 

But I can't stay away from him. I've tried, but I can't. Because I need help. I feel black inside. Hopeless. Trapped. I'm scared -- no, make that terrified -- of who I've become. I'm starting to wonder how much longer I can take it; and I have nowhere else in the fucking world to turn. There's no one else I can go to. I'm not even sure if my Keeper is really trying to help me, like she claims she is. And who else would understand what I'm going through? I can't very well go to my aunt about this. What the hell would I say? "Hey, Aunt Celia. Guess what? I've got a gland in my head that lets me turn invisible now, only the side effects make me convulse, then turn psychotic and try to kill my best friends. And what's up with you?"

Even if I could tell her the truth about any of it, which I can't, she wouldn't understand. Hell, I'm not even sure I'd want her to. She's this sweet, gentle little lady who always believed I was a better person than I really am. She raised me, and she's probably the only person left on the planet who really loves me. But if she knew what I've become, I don't think she would. Better to leave Aunt Celia, and her illusions about me, alone. 

But tonight, I don't wanna be alone. I need someone to talk to, someone to be with, someone to understand me. I need it bad.

I need Hobbes. I want him. IwanthimIwanthimIwanthim….

I'm weak. I must be. No, I'm worse than that. I'm pathetic. Because instead of dialing Hobbes' number, I grab my car keys. _Part of me's afraid that if I call, he'll say no. That he won't want to see me. And I want, no I need, to talk to him. I can't take the chance that he'll turn me down, or turn me away. Not tonight._

It's bad tonight. Real bad.

I head for my car, and the only safety and comfort I have left. My partner. The guy I tried to kill….

********************

When I knock on Hobbes' door, I'm already nervous. Keyed up from the drive over. _I worried the whole way. About what to say to him. How to explain this. How to ask for help. Maybe I'm nuts to even try. Hobbes will probably say, "Hey, thanks for sharing, Fawkes. But I've got my own problems, so get lost."_

The thing is, I'm afraid I already am. Lost, I mean. The darkness inside me, my anger, hopelessness and despair, is growing. I can feel it. I have this uneasy feeling that I need to ask for help, or it'll take me over. And there's no one else I can ask. No one else I want to ask.

So here I am. Hoping to God I'm doing the right thing. Hoping that Hobbes will let me in, despite what I did to him.

There's a long pause before Hobbes opens his door. _I know he's there, though. Being paranoid. Looking through the peephole, scoping me out_. So I put my eye up close to it and wink at him. Open, closed. Open, closed. I smile. "Come on, Hobbesy, it's me!"

I keep doing that until I finally hear a muffled murmur from behind the door. It sounds something like, "Very funny, Fawkes. You're such a riot…."

I hear what sounds like at least five hundred locks being unlocked. A couple hundred bolts being undone. Finally, after what seems like forever, Hobbes' door finally swings open. Bobby's standing there in jeans and a blue T-shirt. _Obviously, he was kicking back before I got here. Relaxing. Damn, he looks good. Good enough to eat!_

Whoa, Darien. Down, boy!

I feel strange. A little excited, but scared, too.

Hobbes looks puzzled, as well as suspicious_. Maybe it's because I didn't call first. Or maybe he still doesn't trust me._ That thought brings a fresh stab of pain. I do my best not to let it show. "Hey, Hobbesy. It's okay, I'm unarmed," I say wryly.

"Very funny, Fawkes." For some reason, Hobbes doesn't look entirely reassured by that. He scratches his head and shoots a look over my shoulder into the hall, like he's making sure I didn't bring a small army with me, to storm his apartment. I just stand there doing my best to look innocent, while he satisfies himself that I'm alone.

After a few seconds, he does. But when he looks back at me, he still looks puzzled. "What're you doin' here? Is there some kinda problem? Something up with the gland or somethin'?"

I smile, and try to look casual. Like I always stop by his place at night, for no reason, and without calling first. "No. No, nothing's wrong. I just felt like talking."

Hobbes frowns at me with a familiar, suspicious look that's somehow endearing. "Yeah?" Then he looks down at his watch, and frowns again. "Well…. It's kinda late," he mutters.

__

I know. But I had to see you. I had to. I can feel my heart beating painfully fast. I can see his reluctance, and I'm afraid he's gonna send me away. So I try to brazen it out. Cover my nervousness with a joke. "Late? What, are you ninety or something? The night's still young, in my book. Hey, are you gonna ask me in, or what?"

Hobbes hesitates again. It crosses my mind that maybe, just maybe, he's not really worried about the time._ Maybe he's got a friend in there. A woman. _The bottom drops out of my stomach at the thought. But just then, he finally steps back and opens the door wide. "Sure. Come on in."

I step past him with a huge sense of relief. _If he wasn't alone, he wouldn't have let me in. So at least there's no competitors in skirts in here. That's good. Score one for the Invisible Horny Man._

Hobbes follows me in. I plop down on his couch, trying to look innocent. Like I don't have a care in the world. Or one teeny, tiny ulterior motive for this visit, either. Like I just came over to talk. Hang out with my buddy, my partner. 

But Hobbes knows me too well. He doesn't buy it. He frowns a little, studying me. "You sure everything's okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, Hobbes. Relax!" I look away, embarrassed by his perceptiveness, and my own hidden agenda. _I feel like I did when I was a kid. Self conscious. Like I'm too tall, like I'm all huge hands and feet. Like if I move too fast, I'll knock something over. I feel skinny and ugly and shy, and I hate it. It's stupid to feel like this now, before I've even said anything to him. He doesn't even know yet. Probably hasn't even guessed how I feel about him. But how am I ever gonna tell him, if his slightest glance makes me this nervous? Shit, this is gonna be hard!_

Then again, when in doubt, act normal, right? Maybe if I do, Hobbes will ease up. Stop giving me those probing looks, and stop wondering about my motives for showing up like this, late at night and with only the thinnest of excuses. But there's only one way for me to seem perfectly normal; and that's to get sarcastic. "Look, I just came over to hang out, okay? Nobody followed me here, my eyes aren't red, and I haven't done anything to piss off the Official today. At least, I don't think I did. Hmm. Ya think that means I'm sick? Maybe you better feel my forehead, Hobbesy," I add slyly, carried away with my own performance. "I could have a fever, you know. Maybe I'm comin' down with something."

Never underestimate the power of snarkiness. Once he hears that, Bobby's sharp gaze finally softens. He doesn't feel my forehead, more's the pity, but he does smile a little. "Smartass-itis, maybe," he shoots back. "If that's a disease, you definitely got it. In fact, I think you were born with it, Fawkes."

I pretend to consider that. "You could be right."

"Could be? I bet the first thing you did after you took your first breath was sass your mother."

"Or the doctor," I put in helpfully, playing along. "It could've been him. I've never liked doctors…"

Hobbes grins. "Could've been worse. He could've been a lawyer. Then he'd've sued you for defamation of character."

I grin, and waggle a finger at him. "Good one, Hobbesy! I like that."

He laughs. "Want a beer?"

I get that feeling, that little "ahh" feeling of relief. The one I always used to get when I heard the tumblers click open on a lock I'd just picked. This time, it's more an awareness of Hobbes' emotional state, but it's just as accurate. _Hobbes just let me in. Really let me in. Relaxed, and started to trust me. Decided to let me stay. _I know it, and I smile at him, trying not to let my relief show. 

"Yeah. Thanks. A beer would be good."

He goes to his refrigerator to get one, and while his back's turned, I admire the view. _Wonder if Hobbes has any idea how good-looking he is_. _He's so hot! Not skinny, like me. He's got muscular shoulders and this beautiful, tight --_

"So. Whaddaya wanna do?" Hobbes calls back over his shoulder.

I swallow hard. _Talk about a leading question!_ For a second, erotic images fill my mind. _Me and Bobby, on his bed. Bobby on top of me. Kissing me, tearing off my clothes. His hands moving over me while I moan_--

"Fawkes!"

I come back to the real world with a jolt. Hobbes is standing in front of me looking a little impatient, holding out a bottle of beer. "Ya wanna take this, please? Man, what is _up_ with you? You're off in La la land tonight."

More like Sexville, if he only knew. I realize that while I was off having sex with him in my head, he's been standing there holding the bottle out for awhile. It's embarrassing. I take the beer hastily, glad I'm not one of those guys who blushes easily. "I'm just -- a little distracted. That's all."

"Oh yeah? What about?" A hint of tension tightens Hobbes' face again as he sits down on the couch beside me. He sets his beer bottle on his thigh and gives me another searching look. 

I know what he's looking for. What he's worried about, and why. I look away. Take a sip of beer, and try to hide what that look does to me. But it's hard, because I feel worse than embarrassed now, I feel almost sick. _I know he's got every right to check me out, but it still hurts. He's poking into that dark, black place inside of me that I can't control, that I can hardly face. That place where the monster lives. My demon. Mr. Red Eyes, who scares the shit out of me --and who tried to kill Bobby._

I look down, and see that I'm holding the beer bottle way too tight. I try to loosen my fingers. Don't want him to know how his searching look humiliates me. "Hobbes, I told you -- my eyes aren't red, okay? And they're not gonna turn red, either. I just got a shot this morning. I'm fine." I try hard to sound casual, but I can't. I've never been great at lying to people I really care about, and telling Bobby I'm fine is an out-and-out lie. So the words come out hoarse. Strained. Almost harsh. Even though I told him the truth about his safety, I'm not even sure that he'll believe me. So I lift my wrist and show him my tattoo, so he can see it's all green, and that I'm telling the truth about that much, at least. 

__

What I don't tell him is, it's one of the reasons I came over here tonight. 'Cause I checked out the tattoo and knew he'd be safe. Helluva thing, when ya can't even visit the one friend you have in the world, without worrying that you might go nuts and kill him._ But that's my life now._

I lower my arm and look away, not wanting Hobbes to see all that on my face. But I think he saw enough, because he backs off instantly. He looks away, and shrugs like it was nothing. "Okay, Fawkesy," he says softly. Just like that, I can see he knows that he hurt me without meaning to, and that he's sorry. He changes the subject, fast. "Let's watch some TV, all right?"

I'm not interested, but he picks up the remote before I can stop him.

"Hobbes, I thought --"

But before I can finish my sentence, before I can even begin to tell him what's on my mind, he clicks the TV on. The screen fills up with a picture of a golden spaceship, and Hobbes perks up. "Hey, this is that sci-fi show, Farscape!" 

__

Whatever. _I never heard of it, and I'm not interested. _Still, I can tell from the tone of his voice that Hobbes likes it. So I shut up for a second and take a look. Onscreen, the picture shifts and I see this chick who's all blue_. All over, tip to toe. Including her bald blue head. Weird_. She puts her hands together and murmurs something about, "We must pray to the Goddess for an answer."

"Who is _that_?" _Not that I really care. I just wanna get Hobbes talking to me_.

"That's Zhaan. She's the vegetable chick. The plant person. The Delvian Priestess," Hobbes says, his eyes glued to the screen. 

"Oh. Well. That clears it all up," I say wryly. 

Hobbes ignores that. "She's kinda hot."

Judging by Hobbes' intent stare, he thinks she's more than 'kinda hot'. I try to hide the flicker of jealousy I feel at the sight of him slavering over her. But I can't suppress it completely. "What do you mean, she's a 'vegetable chick'? That mean she likes to eat lettuce, or that she's made out of it?" I sneer.

"Shhh!" Hobbes hisses.

"Okay." I back off temporarily. _So much for ragging on the competition. Obviously, Hobbes isn't gonna tolerate me dissing his Vegetable Goddess. _Trying to be patient for his sake, I listen to the Priestess talk for a few minutes. But Bobby's so focused on her that he doesn't say anything else to me, and jealousy rears its ugly head again. I just can't keep quiet. "Hmm," I say. "Do they speak Australian on the planet Delvia, Hobbes? 'Cause I could swear she sounds --"

Bobby shoots me a glare. "Just give it a chance, Gland Boy!" he growls. "It's a good show." 

I shrug. _Curses, foiled again_. "If you say so." I shut up again too, but I'm frustrated. _My real life is so weird now, I don't feel much need for science fiction. I wish Hobbes didn't either. This thing he has for the blue bald chick -- it's unhealthy. _

I can say that with certainty, seeing as how I've secretly been obsessed with my own partner for months now. So I should know. _But _w_hat's a lonely bi guy to do?_

A few more minutes go by, while the blue vegetable chick does some strange things with crystals. Hobbes watches intently. I shift around on the couch, getting increasingly bored and frustrated. I try to figure out how to tell Hobbes I need his help, because things are getting too much for me.But all I want to do is yell, _Stop watching the frigging bald blue Eggplant Priestess and talk to me! _

I set my teeth and grate, "Hobbes, could I -- _please!_ -- talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," he murmurs. "What's on your mind?" He takes another swig of his beer. But his eyes, and his attention, are still focused on the TV. 

I sigh to myself. _Great! I'm competing with a blue plant person for Bobby's attention. And losing. I'm coming in a distant second to a vegetable chick on TV._ _That's just great. _"Well, I've just been thinking that we … well, we don't really spend much time off-duty together. And maybe we should."

"Why? I think we're doing just fine. Hey, look at that! There's Sparky. You'll love this guy. He cracks me up."

I glance back at the TV, and see this weird little creature with oversized eyebrows levitating down a corridor with curving golden walls. _Definitely weird_. _And definitely not what I want to talk about. _My frustration rises. "Hobbes, d'ya think you could pay attention for a second here? I'm trying --"

"I heard ya, I heard. Ya wanna spend more time with me. Well, you're here, aren't ya?" He shrugs, like "what more do you want?" 

I have to bite my tongue. _I can see how, on the surface, it might seem to him like I already have what I'm asking for. But I don't. Not quite. 'Cause while he did let me in, he seems to find TV sci fi far more fascinating than his own oh-so-handsome partner. I kinda resent that_. _It's defeating my devious, yet oh-so-delicious erotic plans for him. _"Yeah, I'm here, but you're 

not--"

"Oh, now ya see that?" Hobbes points at the screen, oblivious. "That chick with the dark hair, that's Aeryn Sun. She's a warrior. She is TOTALLY hot! You should see her --"

"_Hobbes!"_ I roll my eyes. I'm not sure which of her body parts he admires most. What's more, I don't _want _to know. Everyone's got a breaking point, and I just reached mine. _If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that the warrior chick and the Vegetable woman could start a threesome onscreen with Xena right now, and they still wouldn't interest me!_

"Okay. That's it!" I reach over, grab the remote, and shut the damn TV off.

Hobbes blinks at me. "Hey! What're you doing, Fawkes?"

I throw the remote down on his coffee table. "I just wanna talk to you for five minutes! With no vegetable chicks, or warrior chicks, or other sci-fi distractions. Okay?"

Hobbes rolls his eyes and takes another sip of beer. "Touchy!" he grouses. "Okay, so talk! What's so frigging important, that you had to come all the way over here and interrupt my Friday night to tell me?" 

That stings. _That's all I am to him, an unwanted interruption of his Friday night TV drool-fest with these sci-fi babes?_ I shoot him a sour look. "I had no idea that vegetable chick meant so much to you."

"Fawkes!"

"Okay, okay." But now it's my turn to feel disappointed, because Hobbes looks edgy. Maybe even a bit pissed off. _That's not good. He usually gets that way after I start talking about my problems, not before._ So I decide not to tease him any more. _Time to get serious_. I take a deep breath. I can feel my heart beating fast. "I wanna talk about us," I say awkwardly. 

__

It sounds dumb, like I'm some suburban housewife whose hubby isn't paying enough attention to her, but it's true. We're the issue here, and I don't know how else to put it. I need to know how deep our partnership really goes. If I can open up to him, if I can trust him to help me with my problems.

Hobbes frowns. Then he gives me this sideways look. "What, did the Official say something? Something about, like, he's gonna reassign me or something?"

__

Oh, geez. _Now I'm pushing his alarm buttons_. _He thinks I came over here 'cause the Fat Man threatened to split us up! _"No!" I shake my head quickly, before Bobby's ever-ready paranoia can go into full swing. "No. It's nothing like that! I swear."

"Okay then, what is it?"

"Well, it's … umm…"

__

Oh, that's great. Now I sound like a semi-literate three-year-old!

Even though I came over here to talk to him about my depression, now that the moment's here, I can't seem to find the words to explain it. It's partly because of Hobbes' attitude. _He's irritated. Seems a bit on edge. It doesn't seem like the right time to spill my guts. I'm afraid if I try to tell him what's eating me, he won't want to hear it._ _It's weird, though. Even though he's in a mood, I still want him. It kinda turns me on. An edgy Bobby is a sexy Bobby. Wonder what he'd do if I just said, "I wanna have sex with you. I want it so bad, I can taste it!"_

But somehow, I can't tell him that either, and I don't know why. _You're such a loser_, I tell myself, disgusted. _Can't ask for help with your depression, or tell him that you wanna jump his bones either_. _Come on! Don't be such a wuss! Ante up, man! Put your damn cards on the table!_

The pressure's really on, because Bobby's watching me curiously, waiting for an answer. I feel more and more confused. _Maybe I should just make a pass at him._ But I don't feel too confident about doing that, either; and my own nervousness annoys me. 

__

Shit! You'd think I'd never come on to anyone before! I know how to do this, usually know just what to say. Maybe it seems different this time just because it's Hobbes, I dunno. But it's hard to know how to approach him. He's not a woman, so I can't sweet talk him; and he's not a con, so I can't talk dirty to him, either. _It kinda limits my options._

How the hell do you seduce an ex-Marine? The mind boggles. Guess I could try honesty. Tell him how much I want him. But if he's straight to the point of homophobia, and I make a pass at him and he's armed --

Hobbes usually always is. I shoot a nervous sideways glance at him, wondering if he's got a gun tucked under that T-shirt somewhere. _If I tell him the truth, will he aim for a vital organ, or settle for just winging me?_

"Well, Fawkes?" Hobbes demands, visibly getting impatient. "What is it?"

__

This is so ironic. _I've finally got his attention right where I want it -- focused 100% on me. He's sitting there looking at me intently. It's the perfect moment to make a move. The only problem is, I don't know what the hell to say!_ _I should know. I've thought about it enough lately. Hell, I haven't thought about much of anything but Hobbes for weeks! But I can't remember any of the slick things I thought up in advance now. Not one single, frigging line. Dammit! _

The pressure's really on now, and I'm sweating. Totally flustered. I choke up, and my mind goes blank. Finally, I stammer, "Like I said, I just thought… that we should get to know each other better." That makes me wince. _Oh, that was brilliant. Just fucking brilliant! You've only said that about six times already. Repeat it again, why don'tcha?_

Hobbes grimaces. "That's it? That's your big news flash? What're you talkin' about, kid? I know you: Darien Fawkes. Ex-thief, turned Gland Boy. You know me: Bobby Hobbes. Ex-Marine, turned agent. Hell, we even read each other's files. What more d'ya need to know?"

__

All kinds of things that those files didn't cover, I think as my heart beats even faster. _Like,_ _do you like kissing?_ _What turns you on? Would you let me suck you?_ I have to look away, because just thinking about that starts to get me excited. I shift uneasily on the sofa, hoping it doesn't show. Now would not be a good time for parts of me to start turning invisible. Bobby would know why, and that'd be totally embarrassing. "Well, you know. Personal things," I say helplessly, as his brown eyes bore into me. "Things that friends should know about each other." 

Hobbes' brow furrows in a look of confusion. "Huh? Like what?"

__

That must've sounded corny. Or stupid. _Maybe both. Jeez, I'm so horny, I can't think straight. _I try to force my mind away from sex for a second. "Like, what's your favorite color? Who was your first girl friend? What kind of books do you read? What do you dream about?" _Me, I hope. Cause I've sure as hell been dreaming about you…._

"_What_?" To my surprise, Hobbes' eyes go wide. For a second, he looks flustered. Shocked. I wonder why. _What I said was pretty innocent. A helluva lot more innocent than what I was thinking_. But I'll give him this, he recovers fast. Quick as a flash, before I can even begin to guess how I suddenly got to him, his eyes turn skeptical, and his lips twist in a cynical smile. "Oh, I get it! This is a joke, isn't it? This is one of your weird jokes. You're pullin' my leg --"

"No, no! I'm serious!" Actually, I'm more than serious. I'm starting to feel a tad desperate. Because things are definitely going south here. Going from bad to worse. _Now he thinks I'm joking!_

Bobby shakes his head, still smiling sarcastically. "Come on, Fawkes. This is _too_ weird!"

__

He has no idea! I thought he might get mad at me, or that he'd turn me down flat; but I never imagined he'd think my interest in him was a joke. That makes me defensive_._ "Whaddaya mean? We're supposed to be partners, aren't we?"

"We are partners!" 

__

Yeah, but not like I'd like us to be. I look at Hobbes' tough, handsome face. _His light brown eyes are lit with impatience and frustration. His lips are slightly parted, like he's waiting for a kiss. Oh, no, right -- that's me. I'm the one with sex on the brain here_. _If I was one of Pavlov's puppies, I'd be drooling. _But I try to rein myself in. Try to sound reasonable, instead of horny. "That's my point! As partners, don't you think we oughtta -- you know -- spend more time together? Learn more about each other? So we could --"

"What? So we could what?" he cuts in, frustrated. "What the hell are you tryin' to say?"

By now, I'm so flustered and turned on, I've forgotten about asking Bobby to help me out with my gland problems. As usual, my better instincts have gotten derailed by the much more powerful ones originating below my belt. Instead, I think, _Here's my chance!_ _The perfect opening. I can think of at least ten ways to answer his question, all of them erotic._ _Like,_ _"I'm trying to say, I want you, Bobby. That I wanna have sex with you. Right here, right now. Me in you, you in me -- I don't care. You could top, bottom, whatever. However you want it. Just please, please take me!" _

Those same, rapidly fading better instincts insist that I should tell Hobbes at least that much of the truth. But I can't do it. I can't force the words out of my mouth. _This risk -- it feels too big. I'm afraid if I screw it up now, I'll never get another chance with him. Hell, it might ruin everything, even our friendship. And I can't stand the thought of that._ It builds up in my throat and chokes me. All my feelings. All the wanting, all the fear.

"The point is, to get to know each other better so we can … work better together," I say weakly, at last. But as soon as that lie comes out, I hate myself. _Oh, that is lame, that is **so** lame!_

Hobbes seems to think so, too. He grimaces in obvious annoyance. Gets to his feet and scratches his head, like he's still wondering if I'm playing games. "As far as I can tell, we work together just fine. I watch your back, you watch mine. We're a good team. So I don't get this. I dunno what you're talkin' about. Hell, I don't think _you_ even know what you're talkin' about!" 

__

Clearly, my efforts at seduction have been a rousing success. Hobbes sounds as frustrated as I feel, and my heart sinks. "Yeah I do --"

Bobby shakes his head. "Whatever," he sighs. "I think maybe you should go, Fawkes. I'm tired. This isn't the right time for this." 

I can see that. I watch Hobbes run his hand over what's left of his dark hair, and I see the strain on his face. He's trying to hide it, but after months with him, watching that face in all kinds of situations, I can see through all of his masks now. And right now, I can tell that for some reason, he's freaked by this conversation. 

That depresses me. 

__

Maybe this is a big mistake. Or the wrong moment. But is there ever gonna be a good time for this? '_Cause I've been trying to keep this light, trying to set him at ease, but it obviously isn't working. The second I turned the TV off, he started to get uncomfortable. Now he looks frustrated, on top of being nervous. Great! But how do you tell a macho, paranoid ex-Marine you want him, without getting your ass kicked?_ _I'd've tried to get him a bit drunk first, but Hobbes doesn't drink. Not that much, anyway. At least, I've never seen him do it. _

"Wait! Just hear me out," I blurt, trying to slow things down. Trying to convince him to let me stay. I know I should take some time to work out the right words, the magic words to lure him in. But I feel so desperate that words start to tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them, tone them down, or make them safe. "I know you, Bobby. I know you, and I trust you. But it's not enough."

Coming from me, that's practically an "I love you". But that's not what Hobbes hears. "What's that supposed to mean?" he barks, frowning, a sudden edge in his voice. 

__

Oh, shit. That came out wrong! I just meant that we're not as close as I want us to be. But from the look on his face, he thinks I'm saying I don't trust him. And to Hobbes, that's the worst kind of insult. Way to go, Fawkes! 

"Wait!" I say hastily. "That didn't -- what I mean is, I trust you with my life, Bobby. Every day. No matter what. You're always there for me, I know that."

__

Wonder why I never said that before? It's a guy thing, I guess. We don't talk about stuff like that. We cover it up. Hide what we feel behind jokes and sarcasm, so we don't have to look at it. But tonight, I want to make Hobbes look. Wanna make him see how serious I am about him. So I'm not sorry I said that. Actually, it felt kinda good to put it into words.

To my relief, it seems to work for Bobby, too. "Glad you noticed, Fawkes," he says, and the angry edge is gone from his voice. _He may not've guessed how I really feel about him, but at least he knows I trust him._ But if I thought telling him that would get him to relax a little too, I was wrong. It only seems to make his tension even worse. He turns away from me, so suddenly that I think he must be trying to hide his face. 

__

Shit! It wasn't supposed to go like this. I don't know what to do! I'm not turning him on, I'm turning him off. Making him nervous. _I'm supposed to be coming on to him here. Seducing him, not freaking him out! But if compliments don't work, what will?_

I swallow hard, my frustration rising. I'm trying so hard to reach him, to find the right words. _I haven't tried this hard with anyone in years. Getting people interested isn't usually this tough. It's not like I'm Mel Gibson or anything, it's just that when it is hard to get someone's attention, I usually just walk away. Move onto someone else. I'm not into challenges -- never was. And after being in prison, I've had more practice fending people off than enticing them. Right now, it's showing. I'm making a mess of this. I can't give up on it though,_ _'cause this is Bobby._

I suddenly realize why I'm trying so hard.Why I haven't walked away from this paranoid, all-too-perceptive ex-Marine, who's the biggest challenge I've ever faced._ I think it's because I've never wanted anyone this much before_. 

It's terrifying.

"Oh yeah. I noticed, all right," I tell him. _You'd be surprised, how much I've noticed about you. How often I look at you, when I know you're not watching_. But then I catch myself. Shake myself a little. _Get your mind off sex for a second, goddammit!_ _We're talking about trust here. Loyalty. I need to let him know that it goes both ways._ "And I wanna be there for you, too." 

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wince. _Oh, shit! That's true, but it came out sounding smarmy. Like a sappy Hallmark card._ _I'm starting to feel as uncomfortable as Hobbes looks_. My hands are sweating, and my heart's knocking nervously against my ribs. _Come on, Bobby_, I plead in my head. _Help me out here! Stop turning away. Try to meet me halfway. Make this a little easier._

But he doesn't. In fact, he laughs out loud. "Whaddaya wanna do, Fawkes? Send me a Valentine?" 

My heart sinks. _Hallmark cards again! Terrific._ _And now he's sneering! Hobbes at his macho worst._ But I know it's not going to help if I blow up at him. So I ignore the jibe. I try to stay calm, keep the anger out of my voice. "No. Like I said, I just think we should hang out together more. You know, spend more time together --"

"Yeah, you keep sayin' that," Hobbes cuts in impatiently. "But why should we? We spend most of our lives at the Agency anyway. Breathe down each others' neck all day. Think you'd be sick of seeing me by now, kid."

This time, he's not sneering. He's smiling. He's just teasing and I know it, but I've had enough. The more he laughs, the more desperate I get. _I can't take this anymore! Can't take the way he's missing the point, the way he's trying to laugh it all off. Laugh *me* off. I'm sweating bullets trying to connect with him, and he's not even taking me seriously. _I'm up off his couch before I know it. I get in front of him, where I can see his face. Now it's my turn to get angry. "Okay. First, I am _not_ a kid, Hobbes!" I snarl. "I'm sick of you calling me that! I'm 33 fucking years old, dammit! And I don't --"

Bobby cuts into my tirade before I can work up a good head of steam. "Hey! Calm down, okay? I know you're not a kid, Fawkes," he says awkwardly. "I know." To my utter amazement, he suddenly blushes. I've never seen him do that before. I didn't even know he could. But as I stare down at him, this slow, deep red creeps up his neck and into his face. For the second time tonight, I get the feeling that he knows he got to me again, and he feels bad about it. My anger disappears like smoke as I watch him, riveted. 

__

On the surface, Bobby's all toughness and bravado. But underneath, he's got all these surprising layers. There's a kinder, gentler Bobby in there. A guy who's really sensitive. I know, 'cause I've seen him before. He doesn't come out very often, but I know he's in there, and I'd like to see more of him. I don't want Hobbes to hide that part of himself. Not from me. 

So when he raises his hand like he's going to touch me, my heart skips a beat. I think maybe I'm getting through to him at last. _Maybe the inner Hobbes is gonna come out to play_. God, I want that. I hold my breath, waiting for it. But at the last second, he draws his hand back and scratches his head instead. I try to swallow my disappointment as he shrugs and looks away. "The 'kid' thing, it doesn't mean nothin', Fawkes," he says awkwardly. "It's just --"

For a second, I feel another flicker of hope. I think he's going to say that calling me "kid" is his version of a pet name. A term of endearment. _And even though that'd be kinda dumb, it'd also be kinda sweet. That's how far gone I am -- the mere thought of Hobbes giving me a stupid pet name turns me on. You're pathetic, _I tell myself, but I want to hear him say it anyway.

So of course, he doesn't. 

"You're just -- younger than me," Hobbes mutters, his eyes fixed on mine. "You are so … younger." For a second, a strange emotion flits across his face. One I've never seen before. Something like sadness, something that almost looks like yearning. Now I'm really stunned. But before I can study that amazing look, he turns away again.

__

Goddammit! Come back here! I go after him. This time, I feel like I just hurt him without meaning to -- and right when we were on the verge of … well, something. Something new and important between us, maybe. My frustration builds until I snap at his back. "What the hell does that mean? Huh, Hobbes? I'm only six years younger than you! So was that some kinda crack about my inexperience? 'Cause hey, I know I didn't go to Quantico or Langley or anything. I didn't spend years learning all about guns and knives and exotic ways to kill people, but --"

Hobbes shakes his head. He's half turned away from me, so all I can see is his profile, but he looks tired suddenly, or maybe depressed. His shoulders slump a little. "No. You didn't. But I did," he says in a low voice. 

__

Oh, shit. I realize what I said, and now I'm the one who's flushing. _Hobbes usually brags about all his training; but that wasn't bragging. He sounded almost -- ashamed of it. Of himself. Does he think I'm accusing him of being a stone cold killer? Is that it? 'Cause that's not what he is! Not at all --_

"Bobby," I say hastily, "I didn't mean --"

But it's too late. When Hobbes turns to face me again, the hint of sadness I thought I saw on his face before now fills his eyes. He doesn't even try to hide it, and it's so raw and deep that it's scary. Before he even says anything, I want to know where the hell it's coming from. Which of his scars I somehow, unwittingly tore open. But most of all, I want to make that sadness go away. 

But Bobby isn't going to let me. "What it means is, I'm thirty nine," he says heavily. "I'm way older than you. I'm too old for this shit, and you're too young."

"What?" It comes out in a near whisper, because suddenly, I think I get it. I think I see where he's going with this, and my gut clenches. _No, no_…..

"Listen to me, Fawkes." Hobbes gives me his tough look all of a sudden. His brown eyes bore into me like lasers, his stare so sternly intent that it's almost painful. He's dead serious. "We can't do this, all right? _It ain't gonna happen_. So go home."

I know what he means. We've got this thing, this kind of intuition, this partnership thing where we can communicate with very few words. Though it hasn't been working as well as usual tonight, suddenly it kicks in, and I know what he's saying. The very fact that he didn't put "it" into words tells me, beyond doubt, that "it" means sex. I stare at him, stunned speechless. 

__

He knows. HE KNOWS! He's known all along! _All this time -- while I've been making conversation, hinting around, getting more and more desperate at his cluelessness, he's known exactly what I want, what I've been trying to say! That's why he's been so freaked out! He knows that I want him -- and he doesn't want me. _

Aw, crap.

I can't move. But Hobbes does. He heads for his door, opens it and says quietly, "Go home, Darien." 

Dazed, I think_, He called me Darien. Not Fawkes_. Somewhere, on some level, I even know what that means. _He doesn't hate me. At least, not enough to hurt me for my clumsy come-on. So he's not gonna pull a gun on me, or punch me. But that's all it means. He's not gonna beat me up, but he's not saying yes, either. It's just like I feared. He's saying, Hey, thanks for sharing, but I'm not interested. I've got my own problems. So get out._

He's throwing me out. End of story. No discussion. No second chances. 

At first, I'm so stunned, I can't take it in. My shell-shocked brain reels through a list of reasons why this shouldn't be happening. _I thought Hobbes' protectiveness meant something. That he was doing more than just guarding the Agency's 17 mil investment, all those times he saved my life. I thought he did it 'cause he cares about me. Sometimes, from the way he looks at me … I thought maybe he even cared more than he could admit. I thought maybe, just maybe, he even wanted me._

But the bleak sight of Hobbes standing grimly beside his opened door is evidence of just how stupid that assumption was. _I was wrong. I read something into it that isn't there._

"Go on," Hobbes says again.

He wants me out. Gone. That much, at least, is crystal clear. But I just stare at him. I don't move, because I can't. I'm afraid if I try to take a step I'll stagger like a sick animal. I feel like one. Because the surprise is wearing off, being replaced by pain. Searing, scalding pain that goes deep, that rips away my self deceptions. Shows me with merciless clarity what a fool I've been, and why.

__

I know why I did it. Why I lied to myself. Why I imagined that he had feelings for me that don't really exist. Why I told myself it was possible Bobby could want me, too. It's because I need it so much. Because Bobby was my only hope. He's the only light in my otherwise dark, fucked-up existence. The only life preserver fate's thrown me since they put this damn gland in my head. He's the only person I feel safe with. Sometimes I think he's the only thing that's kept me sane. He's come to mean a lot to me. Way more than he knows. More than I ever thought anyone could. 

The pain goes even deeper. This little voice deep inside whispers, _I need him._

How pathetic is that?

I don't like it. Don't want to feel it. Hate to admit it, even to myself. But in the bitter clarity that follows Hobbes' rejection, I see that it's true. _I haven't let myself need anyone since the last time I got out of prison. But I need Hobbes. 'Cause this life, this fucked-up life of being a secret government spy, isn't enough for me. I'm a human being, not a damn lab rat! I need someone to be with, someone to care about. It's not enough, just having Hobbes as my partner. I need more than that, more than just a friend/bodyguard. I need someone to touch me. To end this fucking loneliness that's killing me, bit by bit, day by day. I wanted Hobbes to do that, to be that. To partner me in every way, including the physical. I wanted him to be Bobby to me, not Hobbes. I don't just wanna fuck him, I wanted him to be my lover. I wanted him to --_

But I look at his face, the way he's flanking his door so sternly, waiting for me to leave, and I know that's never gonna happen_. He doesn't need me. Hell, he doesn't even want me. I was so wrong…. _

Oh God. Oh, fuck!

It's not the first time I've ever been wrong, or turned down, either. But it's the first time it ever counted so much. The first time I've ever been so completely alone. The prospect of more of that -- more loneliness, more celibacy, more nothingness -- is more than I can take. 

__

Especially since I think I can guess why Hobbes doesn't want me. Why he never will. _It's not necessarily because he's straight. I think it's because of what I did. Because Quicksilver madness made me attack him…. I lost his trust. Maybe he's even secretly revolted by me. And who could blame him? It can't exactly be a turn-on, knowing that your partner's a psychotic freak who could lose it at any moment, and try to kill you. Gland Boy, with the red eyes from hell. Who in their right mind would want that? Even if Hobbes isn't as straight as he seems, he's probably afraid if he ever went to bed with me, he'd get raped. Or never wake up again. _

Even though Hobbes didn't say any of that, I feel crushed. Obliterated. Sick. Like he just beat me to the ground, then kicked me after I was down. Because whether he says so or not, he'd have to be crazy to get involved with me, dangerous as I am. 

__

I should've seen that. But I didn't. Because I didn't want to.

__

I tried to con myself in so many ways, it's scary. I came over here on an impulse because I couldn't face up to this at all. I couldn't think about it beforehand, because that would've meant admitting how important this is to me. Now I'm paying the price for all that denial, all those lies. The disappointment's so huge, so shattering, that my mind doesn't want to accept it. Even my body rebels. I can't hear for the roaring in my ears. I just stare at Hobbes like a brainless idiot. Can't think, can't speak, can't move. It's an effort even to breathe. I stand there trying to ride it out, waiting until the worst of the shock wears off. Trying to get hold of myself, to regain some control over a body that's just gone haywire. 

__

It's stupid, right? I should be pleading with him. Arguing. Trying to change his mind. Or maybe I should blast him, for leading me on like that. 

But I don't let him have it, because deep down, I know Hobbes didn't do that. _Whatever else he may be, he's not a tease. I mean, we've gotten to be good friends in the past few months, but that's it. He's never said or done anything to make me think he might want me._ _Well -- except for those looks, anyway. But now I think I must've just imagined them._ _He never came on to me, so I don't know why I thought this would work. I must've been crazy. But part of me was sure that if I just opened up, took the first step, made the first move, then Hobbes would somehow be there waiting for me_.

__

But he isn't. I lied to myself about that -- in the worst possible way. Like a kid, I told myself I could have what I wanted, just because I wanted it so bad. I made a total, complete ass of myself, panting after him. Wanting something I can't have. 

No, Bobby didn't lead me on -- but he didn't stop me, either. I don't understand why. I think he knew what was going on almost as soon as I shut his TV off. I think that's why he seemed so nervous, so edgy. But he let me play the fool. Why? For a second, it reminds me of prison, of all the nasty games they played on me in there. All the cruel, pointless mind-fucks, just because they could….

I feel a deep, cold surge of anger. That was the worst time of my life, and to this day, if anything dredges up that part of my past, or scrapes those old wounds, I overreact. For a second, I feel like I could hit something.

__

But not Bobby. 

__

Nothing could hurt me enough to make me do that again. _Not now, not ever. I promised myself that, the day I woke up and realized I'd tried to choke him to death when I went Quicksilver crazy. Next day, he had these huge bruises on his neck, bruises from my hands…. He never complained, but I couldn't stand to look at them. I promised myself that I'd never lay a finger on him again, no matter what. He's saved my ass more times than I care to think about, and he deserves better than that. A better partner -- hell, maybe a better lover, too. _

So even though I feel like he just drove a stake through my heart, I don't say anything. Don't let him have it, don't even argue._ This isn't his fault, it's mine. I deluded myself, and now I'm paying the price. Besides, even though he just hurt me, I don't wanna hurt Hobbes, ever again. That's how deep it goes; at least for me._

"Fawkes…." Hobbes must've finally seen that I'm hurting. He moves away from his door, puts a hand on my shoulder, and gives me a worried look. _It's classic Hobbes. He's tough, but he's never cruel. At least not to me. He probably didn't mean to hurt me. But you can wound without meaning to; you can stab with a word. And he just did. _

"Don't." I shake him off, pull away. I don't want to hurt him, but I can't stand him touching me, either. Not now. It hurts, it's like torture. _Now, he touches me. Now that he knows it's safe, now that he's rejected me. Now, he puts his hands on me. Out of pity. Fuck that!_

"Come on. Don't take it so serious," Hobbes says, from somewhere a long way away. "It's not the end of the world, ya know. I'm probably doing you a favor--" 

__

Some favor. It feels more like the end of everything. Hobbes is still talking, but I can't hear him. My shock should be wearing off, but it isn't. It's getting worse. I feel like I'm falling. Slowly. Down, down, down into a blackness that seems endless. _I don't know when, or if, I'm ever gonna hit bottom._

Christ. I gotta get outta here!

But somehow, Hobbes gets in front of me. Blocking the doorway, blocking my exit. "Hey, it's okay, Fawkes. You don't have to go," he says, and I realize belatedly that I must've spoken out loud. "I mean, I know I just said that, but -- I didn't mean it." 

"Yeah you did," I cut in. My voice is hoarse, my throat is dry, but somehow, I choke the words out. I even try to smile, though I suspect the attempt looks pretty awful. "But hey, it's okay. I get the message, Hobbes. I won't bring it up again. I'm outta here."

I try to move past him, but somehow, he gets in my way again. "Wait. Maybe we should talk, Darien --"

__

He just used my first name again. Shit, I can't stand that! That's gentle Bobby talking, kind Bobby -- but he only came out 'cause he's trying to let me down easy. _'Cause he feels sorry for me. Fuck that! His pity's the last thing I want. _"No. I think you were right. I should just go."

I can't stay here one more second. If I don't get out, get out now, I'm gonna break down. Hit something, or worse, start crying. Then Hobbes'll really think I'm a loser. But Bobby hasn't moved. He's still blocking the door, and he looks worried enough to stand there till tomorrow morning. And I don't have the strength to even try to push him away. So I concentrate. I've done this so many times now, it's become second nature. All I have to do is forget my pain and agitation long enough to take a deep breath. Then within seconds, I feel my body start to turn cold all over, as Quicksilver starts to form. 

Hobbes realizes what I'm doing, and growls, "Fawkes! Dammit, don't you _do_ that! Don't you duck out on me!" He reaches out to grab my arm, to hold me.

But it's too late. I've already gone invisible. I turn sideways and slip past him, out his open door and into the hallway.

"Darien!" Hobbes steps out the door and calls after me. His voice sounds oddly rough, like he's really concerned about me. 

It's way too late for that, as well. I glance back at him over my shoulder. He looks even more worried now. But I just keep going. I feel worse than unwanted, I feel despised. Like trash, like scum, like a spill of sewage that poured out of Hobbes' door the second he opened it. Aside from the pain and the cold of my invisibility, all I feel is a need to escape. Go somewhere where Hobbes can't find me. Where nobody can. The gland makes that easy.

Hobbes takes a few steps down his hallway, then slows down, looking around helplessly. "DARIEN!" he yells. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think it's weird, how desperate he sounds. _What is that? He made it clear he doesn't want me, that he doesn't care. Hell, he TOLD me to leave! I'm just doing what he wanted. _So I don't answer him, I just go on down the hallway. Toward the stairs. Running like water, running down…. 

"Shit," Hobbes mutters. 

The sound of footsteps stops behind me, so I know Hobbes has finally given up the chase. I dribble down his stairs, feeling cold inside and out. _Funny, but this is the first time I've really felt like an Invisible Man. Isn't that what you are, when there's no one in the world who gives a damn about you, no one who really wants you? Isn't that being invisible?_

If it is, then I'm as see-through as it gets. And after what I did to him…. I guess I deserve to be.

I keep going. I'm too upset to drive, so I don't get in my car. I just start walking. I flow away, down the street, just dirty water running in the gutter now. Got no idea where I'm headed, but it doesn't matter.

__

Nothing does, when you're invisible.

**************************

__

I gotta go find Fawkes. Can't leave it like that, with things all messed up between us. 

So I drive over to his place. _I figure it's not very likely he went back there, especially since he left his car parked near my apartment. But you never know. Maybe he wasn't really as freaked as I thought he was. Maybe he just went for a little walk to clear his head, got visible again, maybe called a cab, went home and had a beer._

Only thing wrong with that cheery little scenario is, when I get to Fawkes's apartment, he isn't there. Deep down, I'm not too surprised. _Didn't really think he would be._ _It just means I gotta keep looking. So: time for Plan B. Oh. That's right. I don't have a Plan B._

So I improvise. I drum my fingers on the van's steering wheel, and rack my brain. _Where would he go? _I think it over._ Well, there's food. I know some restaurants he likes. There's that little Thai place, over on --_

No. I shake my head, knowing I'm on the wrong track._ Back up. When Fawkes left my place, he looked dazed. Like he'd just gone ten rounds with a heavyweight, and got pounded. He was hurting. Freaked. When he gets upset, he doesn't even think about food; so it's no use checking restaurants. He could've gone to a movie or something, or to a club, but I doubt it. Fawkes likes to sulk all by himself. That's probably why he didn't come back here, 'cause he wants to be alone and he thought I'd come looking for him here. _

It's not like it's the first time I've had to search high and low for Fawkes. I mean, I like him a lot. He's my partner, but more than that, he's my friend. Still, he ain't exactly always Mr. Mature. I swear, I think he goes AWOL whenever he gets a hangnail! He's got brooding and sulking down to a fine art. Pouts like a kid when he can't get his way. Gets depressed real easy. One minute he's up, laughing and joking. The next, he's so far down, he won't even talk to me. Mr. Mood Swings. Oh, yeah -- if there's one thing Fawkes is great at, it's feeling sorry for himself. He's a master. And it seems like it's gotten worse lately. Like he's been down more often. 

I mean, I know he's got some real problems. Know it ain't easy for him, having that thing in his head and working for the Official and all, when he'd rather be out with his thiefy little pals, lifting CD players and jewelry and whatnot. And those shots he has to get, and the Quicksilver madness -- that all sucks, big time. But hey! Whose life is easy? Still, most of us don't have the luxury of running away when things get bad. We gotta stay and face the music. But not Fawkes. Every time things get too much for the wild child, he just takes off. And guess who gets to go find him? Bobby Hobbes, that's who! Like I'm some kinda freakin' nursemaid.

I shrug, feeling an odd little flicker of uneasiness. _I should be pissed at Fawkes for running off like he did. For making me waste my time, running around trying to find him again. But what I really feel, what I always feel when he goes AWOL, is worried. _

Maybe that's why tracking him down feels so good. And I always do. The kid thinks he's so smart, but he can't get away from Bobby Hobbes! I can read his devious little criminal mind like a book now. So. Where the hell would Gland Boy go to brood this time?

Kevin's grave, maybe? 

I consider it, but not for long. _Fawkes usually goes out there when the gland thing gets to be too much for him, and that's not what happened tonight_. _At least, I don't think it is_…. I think hard for awhile, considering the alternatives. _I already ruled out food, and his apartment, and all the usual places … don't think I'll find him there tonight._

__

Fawkes was so freaked, I got this feeling, this funny feeling that he's gonna go somewhere different tonight. Somewhere I haven't looked for him before. So I start going over every conversation we've ever had in my head, looking for clues to where he might be. Finally, it comes to me. _The beach. That's right! He told me once that when his life got seriously screwed up, he used to go to the beach. He said the waves make him zone out, or Zen out, or something. Make him forget about his problems. Maybe that's where he is._

But I'm not sure. _He wouldn't go there late at night, would he? Who'd go to the beach in the middle of the night? That'd be crazy. _I feel a twinge of aversion at the very thought of that. _But then, I'm not Fawkes. He's not me. Just because it's the last place I'd pick, doesn't mean he'd feel that way about it. And as for being crazy, well, he gets that way sometimes. He sure got that way tonight._

I argue with myself for awhile, but in the end, I decide to go. _At least it's something to do. Some place to try. I don't have any better ideas, and I'll go nuts myself if I don't look for him_. _The problem is, which beach to start with. If there's one thing we've got here, it's beaches. San Diego's lousy with 'em. There's Swami's, Windandsea, Black's, Pacific, Mission, Ocean, Carson…. There's tons of 'em. And I got no idea which one Fawkes likes best, or which one he'd pick to go sulk on. _

I get back in the van, head for the freeway, and sigh. _This wasn't the way I planned to spend the night: combing every beach within fifty miles for the Invisible One. _

Still I don't, for one second, even consider _not _looking for Fawkes. _I've got a bad feeling about this. That look on his face when he left…. It wasn't what I expected. Wasn't just the usual punky type look he gets, when he doesn't get his way. It was serious. Like he was devastated. _

I feel a deep, dark stab of guilt. I try to tell myself it wasn't my fault. _Fawkes just totally overreacted. I mean, I coulda let him have it, or punched him or something, for coming onto me. Some guys would've. But all I did was say no. I tried to be polite about it, tried to let him down easy. I didn't even swear! And hey, I know he's good looking and all, but ya can't tell me that's the first time he's ever struck out, either. But despite all the kid glove treatment, somehow, he went right off the deep end. Didn't just look like he'd been rejected, he looked like he was about to puke or something. Like he was at the end of his rope. It was weird. Scary weird. _

And somehow, I still feel responsible.

__

I mean, it seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, I wonder. Maybe I shouldn't've jumped the gun and thrown him out like that. But hey, who knew he was gonna react like that? Not me! Not in a million years! I thought he'd just shrug, make a joke out of it, and forget about it. Hell, I thought it WAS a joke! Darien Fawkes, coming on to me? Get real! I mean, Darien Fawkes! Mr. Confident. Mr. I'm So Sexy, Everybody Wants Me and if They Don't They're Stupid. Fawkes, who flirts with women all the time! How the hell was I supposed to know a guy like that would ever look twice at me? Or at any other guy, for that matter? I didn't even know he was gay! Or bi, or whatever. Or that he'd lose it when I turned him down. If I'd known that --

Well, I'm not sure what I would've done. The thought that Fawkes wants me is like an electric shock. It's stunning, it's exciting, but it's painful, too. I don't understand it, so I don't have a clue how to deal with it. _I haven't done very well so far, anyway. Once I realized he'd freaked out about getting turned down, I tried to stop him from leaving, but by then, it was too late. He went see-through and took off. Typical. If there's one thing I've learned about Fawkes, it's that he's impulsive. He goes off half-cocked all the time, does things without thinking._

I don't like to think what he might do now. 

I feel uneasy, and it's getting worse by the minute. _Dunno if I'm gonna be able to find him, this time. I gotta hope that at least he won't actually be invisible anymore, like he was when he left my place. I can't be sure of that, though. He seemed totally down when he left, and if he decides he doesn't care if he goes Quicksilver mad, he could wander around invisible for hours. Brooding where no one can see him. And I'll be up shit creek without a paddle. _

Still, I don't let that stop me. _Bobby Hobbes ain't a quitter_. _I just gotta hope he's become visible again, and try to make up for my mistake by finding him_. 

I hit the gas, and gun the van onto the onramp while I plan my search pattern. _Where to start? With Black's beach, maybe? I wonder…. Fawkes is really down, so maybe he'd go there. Black mood, Black's beach, right? Then again, I can't count on that. That word association thing, it's pretty slim._ I turn it over in my head. _Swami's is pretty popular -- he might go there instead._

Finally, I decide to compromise, and check both of them. _I'll start with Swami's, then go to Black's, and work my way south from there. Hell, I'll hit every beach in California if I have to, until I find him._

***************************

After I leave Bobby's, I can't face the thought of going back to my little apartment. My empty place. My new prison cell. So I wander around on the streets for awhile. Just drifting. Invisible. I haven't felt this low since I did time. 

__

I never knew rejection could hurt so much. _It never did before. Guess I never cared this much before. Does that mean --_

No! Don't even think that word. It's useless now. Meaningless. 

So I don't think about it. I force my mind away from it, away from any consideration of what to call what I feel for Hobbes. It's the only bit of self defense I have left: avoidance. Denial. So even though hopeless longing for him fills my chest like a stone, I refuse to put a name to it. I just walk for awhile. Trying to evade it, avoid it, deny it. Trying to distract myself. I drift along, and watch the night people start to come out. The pushers, pimps, thieves and hookers. _I used to call them the night shift. I used to be one of them_. Now I wander by, invisible even to them. I look at them and wonder what their stories are. How they wound up like this. What hurts, betrayals and secret sins lie hidden behind their hard faces. _Bobby would probably say they're just scum, but I know better. Everybody's got their story. Their reasons. Being a thief taught me that_.

But finally, I realize that watching the night shift is only making me feel worse_. Most of them are locked into jobs they don't like, either. They look as lost, as hopeless as I feel._ So I decide to go visible again. I shake off the Quicksilver in a little alley off a well-lit street, then step out and hail a cab. _I still don't know where I'm going, I just wanna get away. Off the streets. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere dark. Somewhere where I can be completely, totally alone._

When a cab finally pulls over, I slide into the back, wondering what to tell the driver. "The beach," I hear myself say, without conscious thought. "Black's Beach."

If the cabby thinks the beach is a strange place to want to go in the middle of the night, he's too smart to say so. He just nods and noses the cab back out into traffic. I slouch back against the seat and close my eyes. 

__

Why there? I don't even know. Guess it doesn't really matter much, anyway. Blacks will do. _It's a nude beach, so it'll be crowded later on, when summer comes. But now, in spring while the water's still cold, probably no one else will be there_. _Well, maybe a few die-hard surfers at the south end. So I'll stay at the north end, just to be safe. I can walk along, dabble my toes in the water, and try to forget about what just happened. _

But how do you forget that you're worthless? That even your own partner doesn't trust you? Doesn't want you? I feel like I can't breathe again, like someone's squeezing my heart with a big, brutal fist. _Christ, it hurts!_ _He's the only one who I thought cared about me, the only one…._

Get a grip, Fawkes! I tell myself. _Try to relax. Like Hobbes said, it's not the end of the world. _But it sure as hell feels like it. Because if even Bobby doesn't care about me, then no one does. I have to close my eyes, to try to blot Hobbes' face out of my mind.

It doesn't work. The pain's still there, this giant ache in my chest. Worse, I can still see Bobby, still hear him_. "I'm too old for this shit. And you're too young." What the hell did that mean? He's only six years older than me. Does he really think that matters? That he's too old for me? Or was that just an excuse? And why did he look so sad?_

Why is it, that the first time I tried to ask him for help, I ended up hurting him somehow instead? What does that say about me?

"What?" the cabby asks.

"Huh?"

"Did you say something?" 

I look away, embarrassed 'cause I realize I must've mumbled something out loud. But then, for a second, this weird urge comes over me. _I wanna confess. Tell him the whole story. Spill my guts. Tell him all about the gland, and my deal with a certain devil we call the Official, and about Bobby. Most of all, I wanna tell him about Bobby Hobbes. _

But the urge only lasts for a second. Then I think, _Get real. He could be a homophobe. Probably is._ _And even if he isn't, why would he wanna hear all about my problems? He's a total stranger_.

__

Besides -- if I breathe a word to him about the gland, the Fat Man might find out, and have him killed.

I look out the window into the darkness, trying to decide if that was a joke or not. The truth is, I'm not sure. I remember the days when I could say anything I wanted, to anyone. I think of the freedom I had. Remember Liz and Casey and Kevin, and how it felt, knowing someone cared. 

But that only makes me feel worse. 

__

'Cause as they say, that was then. This is now. _Those days are gone, and so are all those people. Kevin's dead now, and Liz and Casey both left me. I'm so lonely that I tried to seduce my own partner, then almost confessed dangerous secrets to a total stranger. This is not good. And now I'm heading -- well, who the hell really knows where? For the Pacific right now, anyway._

It occurs to me that I may be losing my mind. All I feel about that revelation is a small, dull, distant sense of sadness.

"Nothing," I tell the cabby. "It was nothing." 

He just shrugs, and lapses back into silence.

So do I. _I need to get there_, I think desperately. _Get to the ocean. Let the waves do their magic. Watching the waves always helps me think. Makes things better._

Some time later, the cabby pulls up at the Glider Port, off of Scenic Torrey Pines Road. I pay him and walk towards the stairway that leads down to the beach. It's a good thing there's a full moon, because the steps are really steep. The sign at the top says, "Stairway and cliffs unsafe and unstable due to 1993 rains."

__

Unsafe. Unstable. Well, that's appropriate. So am I. 

I head down, wondering what would happen if I missed a step, and fell all the way to the bottom. _Would they be able to find me in time? Get the gland out of my head quick enough after, if the fall killed me? Or would the Fat Man lose his precious, seventeen-million-dollar investment?_

I shrug. _I don't really give a shit, one way or the other_.

Still, I make it down to the beach okay. Take off my shoes, tie the laces together, and loop 'em around my neck. Then I turn and head north, away from the surfing section of the beach. 

I walk for a long time. The air's cool. The sand's cold and grainy under my toes. There's no one here but me, and I'm glad. I don't feel like even looking at anyone else right now. _It's nice and quiet here tonight. Peaceful. Beautiful, with the full moon shining off the waves._

But somehow, none of that helps. The waves don't soothe me, and the moonlight doesn't make my heartache go away. _I don't understand it._ _The ocean always used to work for me before. I could come here and just sit for awhile, or stroll along the sand, or go swimming, and the sound of the waves and the cool slide of the water over my skin would make all my problems disappear. It was better than therapy._

Not tonight. I walk and walk, but I still hurt.

**********************

__

Lady Luck's gotta be watching over me; or maybe over Fawkes. 'Cause although I strike out at Swami's -- spend a half hour jogging up and down that beach, and don't see a single, solitary soul -- when I race over to Black's Beach next, I finally find him. The moonlight's so bright that I spot him from the lookout point above the stairs. I see this tall figure walking away down the beach. His back's turned, and he's far enough away that I'm not sure it's Fawkes at first, so I hurry down the stairs and run after him, to check it out. Once I get closer, I can make out his spiky hair and the distinctive set of his shoulders. 

__

It's Fawkes, all right. So, he's okay. He's okay, he's not -- 

The relief is huge. So enormous that I realize, I was afraid I wouldn't find him at all. That tomorrow, or maybe the next day, some faceless Agency soldier would come into the Fat Man's office and tell me that Fawkes was dead. I shake my head. _Don't be silly. He's been kinda down lately, but … Don't get all paranoid._ _'Cause he's okay._ You_ can see, he's okay. _Finally, my heart slows down to a normal rate again, and the tightness in my chest eases. I let out a deep breath, and set out after him again. 

__

Don't think I've been that worked up for a long time. Not since the last time Fawkes disappeared. He's the only one who can get me that worked up. I shouldn't let him do it, though. Shouldn't let him get to me like this. I don't like it. Don't wanna care so much, don't wanna worry so much about him. 

But I do. Like it or not, I do.

I scowl, but I still follow him. I stay far enough behind that he can't hear me. _Don't worry too much about him spotting me though, because he's got his head down. He's looking at his feet. He never looks behind him, not once. _I shake my head. _He's pathetically easy to tail. Always has been. _

He's such an innocent, I think, with an odd pang. _Even though he's a criminal, even though he did time, and despite all the shit he's seen working for the Agency, at heart, he's still so innocent. So careless. Hell, half the time, he forgets to lock his own door! It's unreal. He acts like being sarcastic is all the defense he needs. Sometimes I think he still doesn't have a clue how dangerous the world really is. What a risky thing life really is. And love, whoa! That whole love/sex thing, that's the biggest minefield of all. I've been a soldier of one kind or another long enough to know that the worst wounds you get, the deepest, are usually the ones that don't bleed. But I don't think Fawkes gets that. _

He can't possibly get that, or he wouldn't've done what he did, back at my apartment. 

I shake my head. _He must be crazy!_ _That must've been just some crazy whim he had, coming on to me like that. _But deep down, I know he wasn't the only one who screwed up. _I did, too. Even if all he wanted was a quick fuck, I didn't have to treat him like that. Did I really think I was going easy on him, by making him feel bad? By throwing him out?_ _What was I thinking? _

I know I was mixed up. It threw me off balance, the way he showed up with no warning like that. And that look in his eyes, the way he came onto me -- that just made it worse. _Was I trying to teach him a lesson? Show him how dangerous it can be, to mess with Bobby Hobbes? Is that it? Was I pissed off 'cause I thought he was just playing with me? Or was I trying to make him a little less innocent, a little less trusting? Is that really what I want?_

I try to imagine it. A hardened, suspicious, distrusting Darien_. _A guy with brown eyes that look far too old, that view the world with coldness and suspicion, instead of warmth and humor_. A guy who always expects the worst from people, so he won't get disappointed. A guy more like me_. 

To my surprise, the thought doesn't appeal. In fact, it almost hurts to even imagine Darien being like that. _Weird. It's like the very things that worry me about him, are part of his charm. Part of what makes me like him so much. Don't think I'd really want him to wise up that way._ _If he did, he'd be just another tough, distrustful agent. Just another one of the Fat Man's foot soldiers. _

He wouldn't be Darien anymore. 

Okay, so maybe I don't really want Darien to be more like me. Maybe that's one lesson he's better off not learning. So why did I throw him out?

I've been trying not to think about it, but out here where it's dark and quiet, and I'm staring at Fawkes's back while I tail him down the beach, I can't avoid it. _Was I scared? Is that it? Did I overreact out of fear?_

Naw. Bobby Hobbes ain't scared o' nothin', I tell myself. But the words are hollow_. I've been telling myself that for years, and I know it's not true. I wouldn't need all those damn pills, if it was. Wouldn't be out here in the middle of the night tailing my own partner, if it was. _

The truth is, Darien Fawkes scares me. He scares the hell outta me. He's a free spirit, all right. What that translates to in our business is, a loose cannon. He's got no training. No polish. No discipline. Full of wisecracks. Never even shaves right. Always got a bit of stubble somewhere, around his mouth or on his chin. He's got Attitude, with a capital A. He's defiant. Disrespectful. Unpredictable. I never know what he's gonna do next. What he's gonna do to me….

Like those damn dreams, I think. _They're all his fault_. But somehow, like always, I feel this little flicker of shame, of guilt, when I think of them. _Maybe I am afraid. Not just of what Fawkes might do, but of what he's already done. What those big, warm, innocent-looking brown eyes of his have done to me. _

Look at me: first I throw him out for coming on to me, then I stalk him. How nutty is that?

I don't even wanna think about trying to explain this to my shrink.

Still, I couldn't just leave Darien alone tonight. Not after that scene back at my place. Even from here, I can tell how hurt he is. He's not walking right, not like he usually does. His shoulders are slumped, and he's not swaggering. His hip action, his bounce, his energy are all gone. He's walking like he's flat-footed. Like he's got the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Even from a distance, I can see it.And it doesn't make me feel good. 

**************************

Finally, I stop walking. Drop my shoes onto the sand and stare out at the waves. Usually, the ocean makes me feel serene. Like I'm part of it, or it's part of me or something. But not tonight. Tonight all that beauty, that vast expanse of black, shifting, moon-silvered water, just makes me feel lonelier than ever.

__

I've felt that way for awhile now, actually. I've joked around with Hobbes as usual, and sparred with the Keeper and the Official. Tried to act like everything was okay. But it hasn't been. Ever since that bout of Quicksilver madness when I tried to kill Bobby, I've felt completely alone. Like it cut me off, even from him. I've had this big black nothingness at the core of me. Like a goddamn black hole, that sucks up any light that might happen to make its way into my life. And tonight, the blackness is taking over.

I wait for that to change. Wait for the beauty all around me to work its magic, to take the edge off my pain. I watch the waves hit the beach and roll out, over and over again. But peace doesn't come. I don't feel serene. Instead, the blackness inside fills me up. I feel bitter. Resentful. 

__

What's the fucking gland ever done for me? So I can turn invisible. So fucking what? It took away my job, my friends, my whole life. Okay, maybe in a way, it got me out of prison, and gave me Hobbes as a friend. It put him in my life. That's the one good thing that's ever come out of it. Big deal -- 'cause it nearly took Hobbes away again, too. It made me try to kill him. The real me didn't want to, of course. But I had no control over it. I went Quicksilver mad, which means I was locked away inside my own head, screaming when it happened. While the goddamn gland turned me into a red-eyed psycho who tried to choke Hobbes. While that fucker used my body, my strength, to almost kill my best friend.

I watched my own hands killing Bobby, and I couldn't stop it. 

I look away from the ocean for a minute. Close my eyes, trying to blot out that memory, the helplessness, the horror of it, but I can't. _Nothing in my whole life ever felt as bad as that. My first stretch in prison came close, but that was different. What happened to me there wasn't my fault. I didn't start it, and it was beyond my control. That was done to me by other people. In the end, I learned to handle that. I can take being hurt, getting messed up myself. I just figured, those bastards were the enemy. That's what enemies do. _

But that day, it was me doing the damage. Me with my hands around Bobby's neck, me choking him senseless. Me. Darien Fawkes, the guy who prided himself on never hurting anyone. That day, I wasn't just my own worst enemy, I was Bobby's, too. I'm supposed to be his friend, his partner, but I hurt him. I hurt him bad. Shit, I almost killed him! That tore me apart.

I think that's why I ended up here. It isn't just because Hobbes rejected me, it's because his rejection left me with nothing but this. This bitter truth, that I've been trying so hard not to face. _The truth of who I am now. Who I've become. I'm not a pacifist anymore, or even someone who can be trusted. I'm a freak. A monster. I've got a demon inside of me now, that I can't control. I can't even stand me anymore. No wonder Hobbes doesn't want me around._

He said he forgave me, but how could anyone really forgive that? Or forget it? I think it ruined things. Ruined whatever hope I might've had that Bobby would ever really trust me -- not to mention want me. How could he want someone like that, someone who can go psycho on him at any minute, and try to kill him?

Or maybe he's straight, and finding out that I want him disgusted him. Or maybe my record did that. He knows I did time, and he must know what that means. Maybe he thinks I'm used up, damaged goods. A slut. So even if he does switch hit, he wouldn't want to with me.

I scuff the sand with my bare toes. Remembering how I rushed over to Hobbes' place earlier, full of plans to seduce him, I feel a surge of disgust_. What a jerk. Why did I ever think that would work, when I can think of a hundred reasons why Bobby wouldn't want me, and not one reason why he would?_

Staring out at the ocean, I feel something I've never felt before. A sense that I wasted my life. A massive, unexpected surge of regret. _I've never really loved anyone. Not in the romantic sense, anyway. I mean, I loved my family, Kevin and Mom and our aunt and uncle, but I never fell in love. I had my whole life to do it, to make that kind of connection, the kind you're supposed to make, and I didn't. Oh sure, I had lots of sex. Enjoyed the hell out of it, too. But anyone can do that. Cats and dogs do that, dammit. But the deep thing, the human thing, the thing that makes us more than animals -- I never wanted that. Hell, I avoided it. _

I think about Bobby Hobbes, and for the first time, I feel ashamed of that._ He's a bit whacked, but he's a good person. Better than I am. He deserves to be loved. But maybe not by me. Maybe I'm not even capable of it. Maybe the Official's right about me. Maybe I really am this hollow, shallow bastard who never thinks about anyone but himself. Myself and my dick, that is. Because when I had the chance to fall in love, I never took it. _

I loved them all a little: Liz and Casey and the others. But I never cared for anyone more than I did for myself. My big love affair was always with Darien Fawkes. The only reason I really stayed with anyone for very long was for the sex. _I took all the sex I could get, and if I thought someone wanted me to, sometimes I even pretended to be in love. But I never was. I ran from love like the plague_. _Pretty sad, when you think about it. And all that running finally brought me here, to the very edge of the continent. _

It might as well be the edge of the world. There's nowhere left to go. 

I feel scared. Desperate. I feel this wave of longing for Bobby, that's so strong it hurts. But it's got nowhere to go, either. It just pounds uselessly inside my chest, like a wave caught in a bottle. Because Bobby Hobbes doesn't want me, and I can't blame him. _I don't even really have a right to love him, or anyone else, now. Not now, when I can so easily go Red-eyed and become that thing, that demon who would kill anyone on a whim_.

It hits me, that maybe this is my punishment_. Maybe this is what I get, for being such a selfish dickhead all my life. Now I wanna love someone, and I can't_. _I've got no right to ask Hobbes or anyone else to love me, when I could kill them if I go crazy._

__

My vision blurs a little. _What've I got left? _I look deep down inside, and all I see is darkness. _A freak, a fucking junkie addict psychotic monster. I hate myself, and I can't love anyone else. I'm screwed._ _I've got nothing left at all, not even myself._

I feel this sound building inside me. Like a howl, a sick, desperate howl that would split the sky if I let it out. 

But I don't, because there's no one around to hear. Or to care if they did. 

__

It's dark out here…. Dawn feels like it's a thousand miles, or maybe a thousand years away. I feel tears on my cheeks. _Damn. Didn't even know I was crying._ _Well, what the hell. What does it matter? There's no one here to see me, and the ocean will wash them all away soon anyway_. 

In that instant, I realize why I came here. Why I ended up here, at the edge, where the land meets the sea. What's been at the back of my mind, ever since I left Bobby's place. 

__

I know what I'm going to do.

****************************

Fawkes finally stops walking. I angle up behind him, work my way behind some rocks not far away from him, at the edge of the sand. He stands on the beach for awhile, looking out at the water. His face looks bleak, and something on his cheeks is shining in the moonlight. _I'm too far away to tell for sure, but I think he's crying_. 

It shocks me. _Never seen him cry before._ It makes me feel like shit. Like the lowest of the low, because I think I had something to do with it. 

__

He looks so alone, I think. _Hell, he **is** alone. I know that, better than anyone. So what do I do? I make that worse. He makes one little pass at me, one little suggestion, and I throw him out. It's not like he tried to rape me, for God sakes! He was so nervous, it was actually kinda cute; and he never even touched me. All he did was hint that he wanted to be more than friends. So why'd I do that?_

I keep coming back to that. I just can't let it go. _Maybe I was trying to teach him something, I dunno. The thing is, he caught me by surprise. But even if he hadn't, even if I'd known he was gonna ask me that -- how could I have said yes? Darien may be an ex-con, but he's a good guy. He's smart, great looking, and he's got a good heart…. He shouldn't have to be alone. But that doesn't mean he should be with me. I wouldn't be good for him. Still can't even believe that he wants me. Me, Bobby Hobbes. I'm nothing to write home about, and I know it. I'm not exactly the class president type. Never was. I'm short. Paranoid. Losing my hair, and I pop pills like candy. What the fuck does Darien see in me? And why didn't I see this coming? _

I mean, nobody sneaks up on Bobby Hobbes. Nobody! But Darien sure as hell did. When I finally figured out what he was hinting at back in my apartment, I couldn't believe it. The paranoid part of me almost panicked. See, I've been having these weird dreams about him lately. Sex dreams where I'm lying on top of him, kissing him, stroking him…. We've never actually done it, but I keep waking up hard as a rock. So I know part of me wants to. 

And that's not all. That part of me's getting stronger, because I've been having strange urges about him during the daytime, too. At the Agency. Sometimes I lose track of what the Official's saying, 'cause I'm looking at Fawkes's mouth, his body -- even his crazy hair. Damn, but I envy him that hair. He's got probably the thickest hair I've ever seen. Amazing hair. It's all wavy and spiky. Wild, like he is. Untamed. Curls around his neck, his ears…. Darien's hair makes my mouth water. Sometimes I just wanna put my hands in it. Sometimes, in my dreams, I do.

It's freaky. I know. It's even kinda scary. 

I mean, I've thought about sex with guys before. I've wondered how it would feel to do it with a man. My shrinks have had a field day with that. Latent urges, they call it. I think that's bullshit. Bobby Hobbes doesn't have latent urges, my friend. Bobby Hobbes wants something, he goes for it! End of story. But the thing is, those thoughts I had about guys before, they were never anything like these dreams I've been having about Fawkes. I've never felt anything that intense for a man before. Never stared at a guy's hair and wanted to run my fingers through it before.

But I do now. I do it a lot. It's confusing. I don't understand it. I mean -- I know I want him, but I don't know why I want him so much. Why the feeling's so damn strong. Why it hasn't gone away. Why it feels like it's getting stronger, the more we're together. It scares me. But up until tonight, I thought I could handle it, 'cause it was just my freaky little secret. This time, I didn't even share it with my shrink. Didn't want anyone else to know.

Until Fawkes turned those big brown eyes on me and started talking about "wanting to get to know me better," that is. Until he asked me what I dream about. Then, I was so shocked, I almost told him. I almost blurted out the truth. I almost said, "You." I figured that he'd caught me drooling over his hair or something, that he must've guessed my secret somehow, and for a second, I thought he was interested. 

Talk about a jolt! I was so excited, I didn't know what to think. What to say. All I knew was, I wanted him to be interested. I wanted it more than anything.

But just as I opened my mouth to tell him that, to let him know that I want him too, something happened. He started yelling at me for calling him "kid" all the time. Guess he doesn't know I only do that 'cause I care about him. Anyway, it just reminded me how young he is. How inexperienced, how innocent, compared to me. It rammed it home, what a huge gulf we've got between us. I spent years being a Marine, and then in Intelligence. Learning to take orders and to carry them out, no matter how awful they were.

Sometimes, they were terrible. I learned how to hurt, how to maim, how to kill without blinking, without feeling anything. I know Fawkes can't even imagine that. Funny, he's supposed to be the big, bad, hardened criminal; but he hasn't been through anything like the things I've done. He's never even killed anyone. Compared to me, he's a babe in the woods. 

Even though I did it all for my country, sometimes, when I'm with Darien, I feel old and evil. Like this crazed old man whose hands are stained with blood. I wonder if he sees me like that, too.

I wondered that tonight, at my apartment. Maybe he does, 'cause when he said he hadn't "spent years learning exotic ways to kill people," I knew what he meant -- that I did. It caught me by surprise. Made me feel weird. Ashamed. I'd been telling myself that Darien looked up to me. That I was like his mentor.

But maybe he doesn't see me like that. Maybe to him, I'm just a paranoid old killer.

That kind of mentor, Darien doesn't need. But it's what I am. Who I am.

Remembering that made me change my mind about telling him how I feel. We're so different, how could it ever work out? How could I even want it to?

Besides, Fawkes always seemed straight before that. So for all I knew, he could've just been playing with me. Teasing me. Trying to get me to come out and admit that I want him, just so he could laugh his head off and call me a perv. Tell the Fat Man I need therapy or something. It wouldn't be the first time someone's played me like that; wouldn't be the first time Fawkes has done it, either. He's like that. He's got a weird sense of humor. As nutty as mine, and that's saying something. It's one of the reasons we get along so well. But it made me think that all that stuff he was saying about wanting to spend more time with me couldn't be real. I thought maybe it was just a joke, to get me to confess so Fawkes could crack up.

Boy, was I wrong. 'Cause when I said no, he cracked up all right -- but not the way I expected. He wasn't laughing. He looked worse than disappointed. He looked like he was hurt bad. He turned white, like I'd hit him. He just froze up, like he was having this total internal meltdown. 

When I saw that awful look, I knew he wasn't kidding when he made that pass. He meant it. He wants me, I thought. Jesus! It blew my mind. Didn't matter that I've had similar thoughts lately, that I've been dreaming about him, too. Those were just dreams. Total fantasies. But Darien and me together, in real life -- that's never gonna happen. It's nuts, that's what it is. He's a guy! And thoughts and dreams are one thing, but real life is another. In real life, I've never … I mean, maybe Darien has. Hell, he probably had to, since he did some serious prison time; but not me. I've never done it with a guy. Thought about it more than once, but I never did anything about it. I think it's because there were no feelings behind it. It was more like curiosity. And I couldn't see going that far, couldn't see crossing that line just for curiosity's sake, for a casual fuck. 

But this thing with Fawkes, it's not like that. He's my partner, so there's loads of feelings involved. It doesn't matter what freaky dreams and urges I've been having about him, though, or what he said about wanting to get to know me better. The thing is, even if I was gonna do something about it with him, I wouldn't actually know how to. I mean, I know the mechanics, but it's not the same thing as having done it. No way.

Hell, I wouldn't even know where to start. Would I kiss him, or what? I mean, I love to kiss, and I've kissed him in my dreams, but I've got no clue if Darien would like it in real life. Don't know if gay or bi guys do that much. The thing is, if he didn't like it -- if I kissed him and he laughed at me…. 

I couldn't take that. 

Darien was right about one thing: he doesn't know me all that well. Not really. I mean, we're partners, and we've become friends -- but there's a lot I haven't told him. He knows about my nickname, Lithium Bobby, and the reason for it, but he doesn't know how bad the problem really is. He doesn't know that I don't sleep well, despite all the pills I take. Doesn't know I sometimes get up in the middle of the night and prowl around with my gun, afraid that someone's gotten past all my locks and the bars on my windows…. He doesn't know how insecure I am, under all the jokes and the banter and the attitude. Doesn't have any idea how obsessive I get, when I care about someone. He doesn't know that I got my pride, that what I hate more than anything is to be laughed at. There's a lot he doesn't know, 'cause I don't want him to.

But watching Darien, I wish it didn't have to be that way. _Wish I hadn't sent him away like I did. _Then I wonder why I care so much, when he's such a headache sometimes. _Well, he's your partner. They pay you to care about him_, a cynical little voice in my head says.

That's bullshit, though._ What I feel for Darien's got nothing to do with the job, which by the way, they don't pay me enough for anyway. No, it's miles beyond that_. _It's way beyond money, or duty, or any of that shit. I never felt like this about any of my other partners, never let them get so close to me. _

Then I get it. My first real glimmer of understanding about what happened at my place. _That's got something to do with why I threw him out. Not so much 'cause he's a guy, but because I do care about him. Way more than I should. He's more than just my partner, he's more like a brother, or a son or something. Maybe both. The thing is, Darien's important to me. He's -- like family. _

And you don't mess around with family. 

Jesus. There's a scary thought. Fawkes the wild child, family. Darien the ex-thief, a kind of brother. Or son. Or -- what?

I don't know. Don't know exactly what to call it, but it's there. When I look down inside, way down deep inside, there's this huge mass of feelings for Darien. _He's a lot of things to me. All these different people. Sometimes he's like a little brother. This naïve, crazy teenager who I gotta look out for. Then at other times, like when he learns something new and uses it to crack a case and can't wait to tell me all about it, I feel more like his dad. I feel proud, like he's following in his old man's footsteps or something. _

That's scary enough, but Fawkes means even more to me than that. I don't know how to say it, but I feel it down deep. In my bones, in my blood. He's there inside me. Little thief that he is, it's like he snuck in one night while I was asleep, and carved his name on my heart; and I didn't even know it. Didn't see it at first. Dunno why. _Maybe I didn't want to. Maybe I was doing the denial thing. All my shrinks say I'm good at that. I usually just ignore stuff that makes me uncomfortable, stuff that goes too deep for words. That's probably why I hardly ever even use Fawkes' first name, because I've been trying to keep him at bay. Keep him at arm's length. I've been ignoring how I feel about him. _

But tonight … tonight, I'm looking right at it. All the stuff I've got going on inside about Darien. And the truth is -- hoo, boy. Now that I'm finally facing it, the truth is not good. I shift on the sand, thinking about it. _The truth is, Fawkes and me, we're already in deep. We're out in the danger zone, out in that love/sex minefield somewhere. At least I am. And judging by that little stunt he pulled at my apartment, maybe Fawkes thinks he is, too. But it'll only get worse, get even more dangerous, if we take it to the next level. If we have sex. He may not get that, but I do._

Even if I did fish off the company pier -- which I don't -- I couldn't handle an affair with Fawkes. I know it. 'Cause I couldn't be … what's that word my shrink loves? Oh yeah: detached. I couldn't be detached with him. I couldn't just fuck him, then let it go. It's already too late for that. I already care too much. Even if I tried to pretend that it was just sex and that I could quit whenever I wanted to, Fawkes is too smart. He'd see through it. He could probably do that: fuck me blind, then just walk away and forget about it. He's casual like that. But I'm not. I never could do that, and with him, it'd be impossible. I'm already halfway obsessed with him. I'm day-dreaming about his goddamn hair! And if he picked up on that, if he saw how I feel, which he would, it could get ugly. If he knew how much I care, and he didn't feel the same way, it'd just be one more reason for him to laugh at me; and no one laughs at Bobby Hobbes. Not if I can help it, anyway. That's part of why I told him to go, too. 'Cause Darien loves to laugh, but if he ever laughed at me -- about that -- it'd kill me. 

A familiar, black feeling comes over me. The kind that almost overwhelmed me when Viv left me. It's part insecurity, part fatalism, part sheer pain. _It'd never work, him and me, so there's no use even trying. No matter how much I want to. No matter how often I've kissed him in my dreams. No matter how bad seeing that hurt look in his eyes made me feel…._

It felt bad. Real bad. It still does. I wanna go to him. Tell him a joke, do something, anything, to make him stop crying. _But I already came too close to breaking back in my apartment. Don't think it'd be a good idea to get within ten feet of Darien right now. _So I stay well behind him, hunkered down behind the rocks where he won't see me. 

__

Maybe I should leave. 

__

I promised myself that I was gonna find him, and make sure he's okay. Well, I've done that. He's not in any danger. There's no one else here at this time of night, no one around to see if he decides to go invisible again. So he's safe. 

But I also promised myself I was gonna make up for hurting him earlier. Tell him I'm sorry I threw him out. Try to make him feel better. I haven't done that yet. So how can I leave? 

Don't think it'd be a good idea to try talking to him right now, though. The two of us, we're dangerous tonight. Darien's raw -- more vulnerable than I've ever seen him; and it does things to me. I want him so much … too much. And I feel guilty for throwing him out. Who knows what the hell might happen if I try to talk to him? 

We're not a good combination tonight. _We're worse than oil and water. We're more like a lit match and gasoline. We're flammable, baby. One touch, and poof! You got fire._ _That wouldn't be good. Not good at all, not good for Fawkes. Look what happened back at my apartment. He made one little pass, and I freaked; and now he's freakin' out, 'cause I hurt him. What a mess! Can't trust myself around him, so I better just stay here for now. I'll stick with him, but stay out of sight awhile longer._

Darien's not moving, so I finally look away from him for a minute. Take a look around. _Now that we're down on the beach, I can see why he wanted to come here. It's kinda peaceful. And it's a gorgeous night. Full moon shining on the water, waves sighing on the sand. For him, this probably feels like a good place to be alone. A good place to think_.

Then I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye, so I look back at him_. Wait. Fawkes isn't just standing there thinking anymore. What the hell is he doing? Is he -- is he taking off his clothes? Aw jeez, he is! What the --_ _is he nuts? _For a second, I just stare at him in total disbelief. It's something I'd never do, never even think of doing out in public. _I mean, I know Black's is a nudie beach and it was a warm day, almost 80 degrees, but it's cooled off now. It's more like 65. A bit chilly for stripping. So what the fuck is he doing? _

Then it hits me. Something about the way he keeps staring out at the water tells me that there's a point to his little strip tease. _Oh, no. Oh, shit!_ _Please, tell me he's not thinking of going skinny-dipping! _I shake my head in disbelief. _It's only April! That water's cold. He'll freeze his dick off. Besides, that's--_

The ocean. The fucking Pacific ocean! Can't imagine why the hell he'd want to go in there all alone, in the dark. 

I shiver, just thinking about it. _I hate the ocean. Not looking at it, I mean. I know it's pretty and all. I just can't stand the thought of being in it. Of wading or swimming in it, like some people do. Once upon a time, it almost killed me. When I first enlisted in the Marines, I didn't know how to swim very well. Couple of jarheads in my unit found out, and when we were out on maneuvers practicing beachhead landings, they thought it'd be fun to dunk me in the ocean, and see how long I could hold my breath. _

Not nearly long enough, as it turned out. I fought like crazy, but there were two of them and only one of me. One of 'em had me in a chokehold, and I couldn't get my head back up above water, couldn't breathe. Talk about scared -- I was fucking terrified. I thought I was gonna die, that they were gonna keep me under until I passed out, maybe even drown me.

They didn't. When I started to pass out, I went limp and they finally hauled me up, just in time. Then they laughed while I puked up all the salt water I'd choked on, while I was struggling with 'em. I never forgot it. The terror of being under those churning blue waves. Salt water burning my throat, my lungs heaving, straining for air that I couldn't get --

To this day, I never go in the ocean unless I absolutely have to. I don't mind swimming pools or hot tubs, but I stay clear of the deep blue sea. And tonight, it's even worse than that. Tonight, it's the deep black sea. Well, okay, deep black ocean. Whatever. It's cold. Endless. Like death. I hear myself whispering, "Don't do it, Fawkes. Don't go in there!"

But Darien doesn't hear me. He keeps on taking off his clothes. Quietly, slowly. He's not hurrying, he's just staring out at the water the whole time, like it's got him hypnotized. He takes off his T-shirt and belt. _Not neatly, of course. He just drops 'em in a heap on the sand beside his shoes. Careless, as usual._

But it's not really his messiness that's got me pissed. It's the fact that he's got an audience, and he doesn't even know it. 

Then he takes off his jeans, and it gets even worse. _Aw, crap -- he's not wearing any underwear!_ _Goddamn exhibitionist! _I look away for a second, my face flaming_. Then again, it ain't like he knows anyone's watching him. It's me who's up to something here, not him._ _Jesus._ _I'm turning into a goddamn voyeur! _

Still … even though I feel guilty spying on him, even though I didn't want this to happen, now that it is, I can't turn away. I try to keep my eyes off him, but I can't. I look back at him again. I've seen Darien shirtless, but never without any clothes on before; and I suck in a breath, because seeing him naked is better than any of my dreams about him. _He's tall. Bit skinny, but he ain't a stick. Not by a long shot. He's got some upper body strength, and great biceps. You can tell he works out. He's built like a thoroughbred, like a swimmer. Tall and graceful. Broad shoulders, long legs. Smooth, hairless chest. Flat stomach, nice abs. A dark line of hair there, pointing down to…_

Okay. I know it's wrong, but I gotta look. I have to. 

I look, and swallow hard as something hot stirs deep in my belly._ Whaddaya know? His cock's long, but not too thick. It's as good looking as the rest of him._ _It figures. _

I shake my head in surprise and admiration. _Those crummy, thrift-shop clothes he wears just make him look skinny. But Fawkesy's hot! _His hair shines in the moonlight. His skin glimmers. Silver touches every angle, curve and hollow of his long, slim body. The breeze lifts his thick, spiky hair, ruffling it with gentle fingers. _But Darien doesn't look cold. He looks totally at ease._ _He's comfortable in his own skin, in a way I never will be._

Fuck. He's beautiful. 

Suddenly, I want to touch him so much, I ache with it. I wish I could leave, but it's like he cast a spell on me or something. I can't go, I can't even take my eyes off him. Fawkes obliges me by standing there for awhile. He doesn't move, he hardly even blinks. He just looks out at the waves. Part of me loves the free show, but the rest of me knows this is perverted. That I'm acting like a creepy little peeping Tom here. 

After a few minutes, I tell myself enough is enough. That I oughtta go. That I gotta go, and stop peeping on my own partner. But something stronger than lust holds me still. My instincts tell me something's up, that something bad's about to happen. The longer Fawkes looks out at all that black, heaving water, the more worried I get. My heart starts to beat faster. _Hope he isn't gonna do what I think he's gonna do…._

Then he moves. Without a sound, without warning, Fawkes walks forward. Heading across the sand. Heading for the water. 

__

Aw, crap! 

*****************

__

I stare out at the water for awhile. Think it over. Ask myself, _What do I really want?_

The answer wells up from deep inside. _I don't wanna be alone anymore. Don't wanna be afraid anymore. Don't wanna be this freak who can't love anyone. I don't want the secrets, the lies, the pain, the constant threat of madness hovering over me. Don't want the craving for their goddamn drug. Don't want the cold prick of the needle that keeps the craziness at bay, either. I always hated that. _

No more needles, I tell myself. _No more pain. No more fear. No more loneliness. But most of all, no more getting up every morning wondering if this is the day when I'll finally snap, and kill Bobby. No more_….

It wouldn't be that hard to do. And I'm so low, so damn down, that it seems like a good thing. An idea whose time has definitely come. So I go with my gut. Act on impulse. Decide to do it, to put my plan into action now. _Why wait? Every day that I live is just one more day that I might lose it, and murder my best friend_. _So every day that I live is just one more day that I have to live alone…._

I take a deep breath, then I start taking off my clothes. It feels a little cold at first, but not as cold as when I first go invisible. _Not as cold as being invisible, even to Bobby._ Before I know it, all my clothes are off, and I'm standing there buck naked, with the sand between my toes. I shiver once, then it starts to feel good.

__

Time for a swim, I tell myself. _A very long swim._

The water's a bit cold at first, too. It's still too early in the year for the sun to have worked its magic, and warmed the waves up. Besides, it must be close to midnight, so whatever heat the ocean might've soaked up during the day is long gone now. But I don't let that stop me. I wade out slowly, letting my skin adjust to the chill of the water, feeling it caress my feet, my ankles, my legs. It feels oddly sensual. _Almost like cold kisses. _

Just for a second, I think about kisses. _The kisses I never got from Bobby. Wonder how they would've tasted_…. I realize with a pang, that I don't even know if he likes to kiss_. There's so much I don't know about him. So much I'll never know…._ Pain twists inside me, but I keep on going, deeper into those cold, salty kisses. It feels odd, like I'm wading deeper and deeper into a dream, though I know it isn't.

__

Guess this is what it feels like, to let go.

I walk out further. The only things that tug at me are thoughts of Bobby and my aunt. _But she'll get over it. I don't think this will hurt her as much as it did when I went to prison. And Bobby --_

I don't know what Bobby will do. I don't even wanna think about that. What his reaction will be. But in his own way, he's strong. He'll find a way to deal with it. Anyway, it can't be helped. _I tried, but it was no use. He doesn't want me, and he can't trust me; and he's right not to. _

Still, I realize that, in a weird way, maybe I'm finally going to be able to love someone after all. I finally put a name to my deepest feelings, finally look at what I've been trying so hard to avoid: _I'm in love with Bobby. I love him._

Ain't that a kick in the head?

Darien Fawkes finally fell in love. With someone good. Someone brave and loyal and -- and paranoid.

I smile a little. _Guess you can't have everything. _

But as I stand there with that revelation flashing in my brain, it hits me that even though Hobbes made it clear he's never going to feel the same way, I can still show it_. I can still do something for him, something important. I can love him this way. Because this way, if I lose myself in the ocean, they won't be able to salvage the gland. It'll be lost, lost forever; and Bobby will be safe. It's all I can give him, but I can do at least that much. I can keep him safe. I can protect him, like he's always protecting me._

I think about Bobby for a minute_. _Imagine him safe._ Going on with his life without being saddled with a crazed, psychotic partner. _It feels good. It feels really, really good. _So this must be a good thing_. I smile a little. _Never thought I'd go out doing a good thing. Must be because of Bobby's influence on me. I just wish he could know that_. 

At that second, at the edge of the water, I finally get it. The emotional lift I came here for, that I've been waiting for. The ocean couldn't give it to me tonight, but the thought of Hobbes does. It steals over me while I stare out at the water and I smile, thinking of him. I remember a thousand things: his courage, the sound of his laugh, the way he always looked out for me. His tough, handsome face. His mouth, that I wish I'd kissed.

Remembering Bobby makes me feel better. Lighter, and more peaceful. For the first time in months, I feel like a regular guy. Not a freak or a demon, but just a guy who finally fell in love. For the first time in my life, I know how it feels to care more for someone else than I do for myself. Enough to give up everything I have for him, and feel good about it. 

Once, I would've thought that was corny, or even stupid. Or maybe even impossible. Now I'm grateful. It's good to know, here at the last, that I've become fully human. It's an amazing feeling, love -- warm, deep and powerful. So I just stand there for a minute more, letting it wash through me, letting myself feel it. My love for Bobby. Despite the darkness and the cold water all around me, it's like someone lit a candle inside me. I don't hate myself, and I don't feel lost anymore.

It's like loving Bobby's given me back a part of myself. I feel like Darien again. The Darien I used to be, before the gland. The guy who had some self respect. The non-violent guy, who had at least one reason to feel good about himself. 

__

Now I've got a better one. I get it now. I finally get it! Wish I'd known love felt this good. Maybe I'd've tried it sooner. But better late than never. 

It is late, though. It's very, very late; and the waves are getting stronger now. They're knee-deep, then thigh-deep, then they're hitting my chest. Pulling at me. Tugging at me like a wet embrace. But just before I dive into it, before I answer their call, I think of Bobby Hobbes one more time: The gold glints in his eyes. His smile. 

__

This won't make him smile, I realize. _This will hurt him_. I stop for a second, feeling that painful squeeze inside my chest again. _I don't wanna hurt him. Don't wanna let go of him, either. _But even I can see how selfish that is_. He'll get over losing me. But if I go mad again, if that red-eyed freak gets his hands on Bobby again -- he could get killed. _

And if I have to make a choice between hurting Bobby and getting him killed, there's no choice. 

No choice at all.

I eye the waves. They look beautiful again. Silvery, even welcoming. _It must be a sign that it's time to go_. I take a few deep breaths, readying myself.

__

So: this is for Bobby Hobbes. The best friend I ever had. Just wish you'd been my lover, too. Maybe I could've taken that sadness out of your eyes.

I would've liked to try. I love you, Bobby.

Then I lean forward. I let the ocean have me, let it take me, swimming just enough to keep my head above water.

__

Have a good life. See ya, my friend.

I decide to follow the path of the moon. See where it takes me. 

**************************

"ShitshitSHIT!" I pull off my watch, jacket, belt, socks and shoes hastily, as Darien swims out to sea. I bury my watch, wallet and keys under the sand, and throw the clothes on top_. I'm not as careless or trusting as Fawkes, or maybe not as crazy. I want my stuff here when I get back_. Then I head for the water, fast.

__

I can see now that I should've hit the water when he did. Should've dived in after him right away. He's a good swimmer, so he's moving along out there. Worse, he's headed straight out for the breakwater. But I hesitated 'cause I just wasn't sure, at first, what he was really up to. And if Darien the original wild child was just acting on a whim here, if he was just going out for a little moonlight swim, then I didn't want to jump in to rescue him, and end up looking like a damn fool.

But this is more than a little moonlight dip. I can feel it. _Fawkes left everything he had behind him on the sand: his clothes, his watch, even his wallet. Everything. Just dropped 'em right out in plain sight. Granted, he couldn't exactly take his valuables along on a swim, and the beach is pretty deserted right now, but still…. Why'd take off his clothes? He shouldn't've stripped to go swimming, 'cause it's cold out. So why did he?_

That bothered me. It changed things. Made this seem less like a swim, and more like some dark kinda plan. More like --. 

No. It can't be that. I won't let him do that!

I hope to God I'm wrong, but I can't wait around to find out what Darien's up to, 'cause I can see him out there. He's this sleek, dark shape cutting gracefully through the trail of the moonlight on the ocean -- heading for God knows what. _He's already a long way out, and I'm not the greatest swimmer. It's gonna be hard to catch up._

For a second, I consider trying to call him back; but I don't. _Because if he's doing what I think he's doing, he won't turn around anyway; and if he isn't, he still won't, just to be annoying._ _Either way, I know from experience that I could yell my damn head off at him, and it won't do any good. Fawkes won't bend that stubborn neck of his for anyone but the Official. But if I keep quiet, maybe I can sneak up on him in the water. Grab him, and drag his skinny ass back to shore._

It's not much of a plan, but it's all I've got time for. If I wait around to think up something better, he'll be halfway to fucking Hawaii.

"You're gonna be sorry you made me drag you outta here, Fawkes, you dickhead," I say. But he's way too far out to hear me. I'm really talking to myself. Trying to gather my courage. I try hard not to think about sharks, or sea snakes, or any of the creepy, potentially lethal things that could be all around me, unseen beneath the waves. But I know if something brushes up against me while I'm swimming, I'll probably freak. I take one last deep breath. 

__

I get eaten by something out there, Fawkes, and I'll come back and fucking haunt you! Swear to God I will.

Then I wade in, cursing the water's coldness, remembering its awful, salty taste. And hating Fawkes every step of the way, for making me do this. _After I quit the Marines, I thought nobody could get me back in the goddamn ocean. But I never figured on Gland Boy. Trust Fawkes to come up with a way to lure me back in!_

But even as I curse him, I move faster, shivering as the black, restless water surges up past my knees, then over my hips. _It's cold, damn cold. _My pants and shirt feel cold and clingy already, and I know that's only gonna get worse. _But there's no way I'm going out there with the sharks and snakes and God knows what, without my clothes on. No fucking way!_

The deeper the water gets, the deeper my fear gets, too. My heart's racing and my breath's coming faster, but I ignore that. _It's only a little water, _I tell myself_. So it's cold. Big deal! You've faced a lot worse things. Can't let it get to you. There's no time for that._ _There's no one else around to help, and Fawkes is acting crazy. _

When the next wave comes, it's big. I've got three choices: turn around and go back, stay where I am and let it smash into me, or duck under it and start swimming. _I hate the taste of salt water…. But that's Darien out there. _

Fuck the Pacific. 

I hold my breath and dive.

******************

I swim on, feeling curiously peaceful. Other than the rush and hiss of the waves, it's quiet out here. My muscles roll smoothly, my arms cut the dark water with ease. _Feel like I could do this all night. Forever._ _Maybe I will. Because every stroke takes me further and further away from the Agency, from the Fat Man, from a life that's too screwed up to live anymore._

The down side is, it's also taking me further away from Bobby. 

That hurts. But if I'm crying, there's no way to tell anymore, out here in the water. _Besides, if there's one thing I've learned in the last year, it's that you can't have everything. I used to think I could, but that was an illusion. I know that now. I lived high for awhile, had a good run, but now it's over, and I'm paying for it. That's okay, though. I broke all the rules, and then some. Guess I deserve to pay. But Bobby doesn't. He shouldn't have to pay the price for my mistakes. He shouldn't have to suffer, and maybe even die, because I let them put this gland in my head. This way, I can make sure he won't have to_. 

That's such a relief, part of me wonders why I didn't think of this a long time ago. But part of me, a small part deep down inside, is scared. The waves are getting bigger, and I'm further out in the ocean than I've ever gone before. I can hear it screaming at me to stop. _Go back. GO BACK!_ But I don't listen to it. _I'm just out for a swim, a moonlight swim_, I tell it smoothly. _Chill out_. 

I keep on kicking and stroking, blazing a foamy trail through the liquid moonlight. 

********************

__

Dammit! Fawkes is out so far, I've been swimming as hard as I can, and I'm still way behind. 

My clothes feel heavy. Too heavy. They pull on me every time I take a stroke. They're starting to weigh me down. _Maybe I shoulda left 'em behind after all. Gone skinny-dipping, like Fawkes. Too late now_. I'm starting to pant. The waves are bigger out here. It's getting harder to keep going forward, to keep them from pushing me back.

__

I'm not gonna make it, I think. I have this dark little vision of going under. Just sinking down, down into the cold blackness beneath me. _Food for the fishes_. I feel myself shudder. I tell myself it's with cold. Cold, not fear.

But I can't go much further. I know it. I'm just not that good a swimmer. Already, my arms feel like lead. Even if I turned around now, I'm not sure I could make it all the way back to shore. _Enough, already_, I tell myself. _This has gone far enough. Forget about sneaking up on him. Just make him stop_, _before it's too late._

I fight my way up over the dark crest of another wave, and lift my head, panting, to look ahead for Fawkes. But all of a sudden, the silvery trail of the moon on the waves ahead of me, where he was swimming, is empty.

I don't see him.

__

Oh shit! Panic roars through me. I stop swimming, try to shake the stinging salt water out of my eyes, and tread water while I look all around. _Oh God, no. Oh, please -- _I remember how I threw him out of my apartment. _Just told him to go, like a shithead, because I was scared. Scared that he didn't really want me, and even more scared that he might, and that I'd screw him up if we got involved. I shouldn't've done that. I know how easy he gets depressed. But all I could think of was getting rid of him fast, before he found out the truth. Before he figured out how much I wanted to say yes. I even told him I was doing him a favor_. _Dammit!_ _What a prick._ _What a stupid, cowardly little prick I was! _I remember the awful look on Darien's face when I said that, and I'm petrified.

__

If I lose him out here, if he drowns -- it'll be on me.

I turn in crazed, desperate circles, scanning the black water in all directions for a trace of his pale body, his sleek, dark head. "Darien!" I yell, at the top of my lungs. "Fawkes! Where are you, dammit? Where are you? _DARIENNNNN_!"

*************************

Finally, I get a bit bored with just slogging on through the water. So I decide to go under for a bit. Just for the hell of it. See how long I can hold my breath. _Haven't done that in a while…._

Turns out, I can do it for longer than I thought. I count to a slow fifty before I have to come up again. I think about Kevin while I do it, 'cause that's a game we used to play when we were kids. _Submarine, we called it. We'd dive underwater, then see how long we could stay under…._

I miss him. Funny -- here I am out in the middle of nowhere, way out in the Pacific, and for a second, all I want is my brother beside me again. Young and laughing. Only I know that's another one of those things I can't have. 'Cause Kevin's in a coffin now. He's not here with me. He never will be again.

Until….

No. It's not time yet. 

So I surface again. Suck in air in deep breaths, because I was down there for awhile. Then I shiver, lift my head and listen hard. Because out there somewhere in the darkness, I think I hear someone calling me.

"Darien!"

__

Aw crap. It can't be!

It's a male voice. Some distance away, but familiar. It calls again, and sends shivers down my spine. It sounds like it's coming from behind me, back in the direction of the shore. But when I look back, all I see are big waves, cresting and hissing. I don't see anyone. And I know there shouldn't _be_ anyone there. Not this far out, not this late at night, and not this early in the year. I'm not superstitious, but somehow, in the darkness, memory breathes a name to me anyway. Out of guilt, out of love.

"Kevin?"

I know it's impossible. But out here in the vastness of the moonlit ocean, it feels like I'm in a different world; and some irrational part of me hopes it could be true. That my brother could somehow be calling to me. Trying to warn me, trying to save me. _After all, Kevin's the only one who'd care enough about me to try to stop me. Even if it was from beyond the grave_…. 

For a minute, I just hang there, treading water and listening hard. _That call seemed so real! _But when it doesn't come again, I waver._ Maybe it was just my mind, playing tricks on me. If it was, then I'll turn back and go on with my decision -- my swim. But if it wasn't…._

"DARIENNNN!"

There it is again! The call is fainter now, but this time, I know it's real. There's a desperation to it, an edge, that's not something I would've imagined. And this time, I see something break the surface of the water, way back where that call came from. Something pale. A face and hands. I see splashing, like someone's floundering around in the water.

"Fawkes! Where are you?" 

__

Fuck! _Someone's really out there! Someone who knows my name. _It's so eerie, I shiver again. _But it's not Kevin. It can't be._ _Whoever that is, it can't be my brother, or even his ghost --'cause Kevin never called me Fawkes._

You'd think I'd be relieved by that. But for a second, I feel a crazy kind of disappointment instead. _Maybe somehow, some way, part of me actually believed that Kevin could've come back from the dead. It wanted him to_. But the disappointment only lasts a second, until I realize who it is. Then my sadness is washed away, and my heart lurches wildly in my chest. 

__

It's still too far away to see him clearly, but I know who it is, who's out there in the water yelling at me. It doesn't make any sense, it's crazy, but I know. _Hell, I should've known all along._

****************************

I'm so busy looking for Fawkes, yelling to him, that I forget to look around me. I don't even see the wave coming. I just feel myself being lifted suddenly, then there's this roar and I'm flung forward and what feels like a ton of water crashes down on my head. _Boom!_ Then I'm rolling, tumbling like a stone, head over heels in the black water. Over and over, till I've got no idea which way is up. 

It's my old nightmare, come to life again. 

I'm in the ocean, way under, and I can't breathe. _Oh fuck, oh shit!_ When I finally stop rolling, my heart's pounding like a hammer, and I'm terrified. I've got just enough of my wits left to hold my breath and I turn and twist, looking for the surface. _Which way's up?_ I've got no idea. But the blackness seems slightly lighter over to my left, and time's running out. My air's running out. So I head that way, kicking hard, giving it all I've got. Praying that I'm right, and that I'm heading for air, for the surface, and not deeper down.

When my head finally breaks the surface, I'm shaking and gasping. I'm alive, I made it, but fighting my way back up from so far down took almost everything I had left. I'm cold and tired and scared. It's all I can do to try to keep myself afloat. I spit out salt water and cough.

"Fawkes!" I sputter, shivering.

*************************

__

It's Hobbes! How'd he find me? And why the hell did he follow me all the way out here? 

For a second, I freeze. I don't answer him, I just tread water, pierced by indecision so paralyzing that I can't go forward or back. Part of me is yelling, _Go get him, you asshole! He sounds like he needs help! _But the other half of me knows I shouldn't go. That as long as I live, so does my demon. That part of me insists that the best way I can help Hobbes is to just keep going. _He'll find his way back without me; and without me, he'll be safe._

But will he go back? Can I be sure? If he can't… if he's hurt, or worn out, or cramping up from the cold or something, and I don't go back for him, he won't make it.

But maybe he won't make it if I do….

Aw, crap! I hang there, literally caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Hobbes yells again. "Dar -i - _ennnn_!" It's a watery kind of yell, that sounds even more desperate than the last one.

That tips the scales. I took this swim because I know I'm a possible future threat to him. But that yell tells me that he's in far more danger from the ocean right now. _That threat's real, and immediate. The other one's only a maybe. S_o _I can't go on, can't gamble with his life like that. That's why I was out here in the first place: to save him._

__

I can't let him drown. I gotta save Bobby. 

The second the decision's made, I'm swimming toward him. Fast. Still, I feel an undercurrent of regret. _Part of me wanted the nightmare to be over. Wanted it badly. For Bobby's sake, and mine. Heading back means plunging headfirst into hell again. _

But I go back anyway. _Bobby comes first. _

Feeling guilty that I hesitated, I pour it on to get to him. Swim as fast as I can until I'm beside him. Hobbes is pale and wild-eyed, and barely keeping his head above water. _Wonder how well he can swim? And if he's not a good swimmer, how the hell did he ever make it all the way out here? Jeez, he's got guts._

But I already knew that.

I close the last bit of distance between us in seconds, and reach out for him. "Hey, Bobby! I'm here. It's okay. You all right?" I ask gently. I take hold of his hands, and guide them to my shoulders. Hobbes grabs on, gasping for breath. _Wow. I've never seen him look scared before_. I steady him, then I brace myself. Wait for him get furious. _I figure he's gonna let me have it. Take my head off. Call me every name in the book. Maybe even hit me, for being such an asshole. Or threaten to report me to the Fat Man, for endangering his precious gland._

But Hobbes doesn't do that. "Okay? Course I am," he gasps. He puts a shaky hand on my head, and ruffles my wet hair. "Hey, kid! You all right?" He gives me this wet, goofy grin. It's crazy, because we're half a mile out in the ocean, it's dark and we're both cold and shivering, but it hits me that I've never seen him look so happy.

"Yeah. I am now." Before I can stop myself, I'm grinning too. _Seems like he's not mad at me for doing this. I can't believe it! _"But I thought I toldja not to call me 'kid'," I shoot back, even though I secretly hope that he'll never stop.

He just grips my shoulders, sucks in a few more deep breaths and says, "You d-did. I just … didn't l-listen."

__

Good.

Bobby's so cold, he's shaking. I was cold too, but somehow, seeing that he's okay and knowing that he's not furious with me drives my shivers away. This deep, warm feeling spreads through me again, like the a shaft of sunlight_. I know I did the right thing, coming back._ _'Cause whatever the dangers may be, no matter how fucked up my life is, I can't leave him when he's in trouble._

I love him.

But then Bobby's grin fades and his eyes turn serious. "B-but this -- this is --f-far enough, Darien. T-time … to go back now. Okay?"

"Okay," I answer. Just like that. _He could probably get me to do anything_, I think, and the thought doesn't even faze me. I look at Bobby's pale, wet face, and feel affection tinged with wonder. 

__

He's not even telling me to go back -- he's asking me to! _He's not treating me like a kid now, not when it counts. He's leaving it up to me to make the decision. Treating me like an equal, like his partner. It's the right thing to say, the absolutely perfect thing to do; and no one else in my life would've known that but him. Anyone else would be asking questions. Trying to find out what I was doing out here. Ordering me to go back, or maybe even yelling at me_. _But not Hobbes. He always knows just what to say_. _Even now, when he's white-faced and shaking, when he's so cold that his teeth are actually chattering, he still knows_. 

__

Bobby Hobbes is magic. Holding onto him in the dark water, it hits home to me for the second time that I've never loved anyone like this in my life.

It makes me see how stupid I was, back at his apartment_. I was wrong about Bobby. Just because he doesn't wanna fuck me, that doesn't mean he doesn't give a damn. Maybe he doesn't want me the way I wish he did. So what? I just realized -- there's only one reason why he'd do such a crazy thing as to follow me half a mile out into the ocean, in the dark. He nearly got himself drowned trying to save me, and that means something. There's ways and ways to love; and in his own way, Bobby loves me, too. As a friend. He must. 'Cause he's not out here protecting the gland for the Fat Man. Hell, the Fat Man doesn't even know I'm here. He doesn't know I left Bobby's place in a huff, so he couldn't've sent him to find me. No, Bobby's here for **me**. Because he was worried about me._

Kevin's not the only one who cared about me. 

It's such a big thing, it means so much to me, I don't know what to say. So I just tread water for a bit. Steady Hobbes until the worried look fades from his eyes. I even let myself enjoy the way he's holding onto me. _Even if he is cold and shivering, and even if it is only for his protection, I still managed to get Bobby's hands on my naked body. Yeah, baby! Score one for Invisible Boy. _

I wish I could tell him I love him. But I know now that he doesn't wanna hear that, so I settle for smiling at him instead. "Yeah. I guess you're right. It's time to go back."

I try not to notice his obvious relief. _Guess he thought I was gonna give him a hard time about it. Try to get away or something_. _But I can't. Can't go on with this, not after seeing him. Knowing he loves me, that changes everything. _

For the first time, I think, _Maybe I did the wrong thing coming on to Bobby back at his place. I let my dick distract me, like I always do. I probably should've stuck to my original plan. Tried to work my problems out with him instead. He doesn't wanna have sex with me, but that doesn't mean he won't help me. Maybe he can help me figure out how to live with my demon, and not let it destroy me_. _Or him._

Maybe somehow, as long as Bobby's with me, there'll be a light at the end of this long tunnel. 

I want to believe there will be; and that alone is more hope than I've felt for a long time. I know it won't be easy, but I make up my mind to try to talk this out with him as soon as possible. To tell him the truth about how much the Quicksilver madness is freaking me out. _I won't come on to him again, but I wanna tell him how scary things are for me now, and how much I need his friendship, his help. I owe him that much, since he came all this way to save me._

In the meantime, I try to think of a way to return the favor.

I look over at Hobbes. He let go of me for a minute, and he's treading water okay, but he looks tired. Too tired to make it all the way back to shore by himself, though I know he'd die before he'd ever admit it. "Hey, Hobbesy," I say, trying to sound casual so I won't hurt his pride. "I got an idea. How 'bout you grab onto my shoulders, and we'll head in? I'll tow ya for awhile." Then I turn around fast, ostensibly so he can take hold of my shoulders, but really so he won't be able to argue with me. 

But to my surprise, he doesn't say a word, doesn't even try to fight me on it. He just splashes over and grips my shoulders tightly, so I know he must be as worn out as he looks. Anyway, having a wet Hobbesy hanging onto my shoulders is fine by me. I grin, knowing he can't see it. _So it's not a grope_. _At least he's touching me again. I'll take what I can get._

"Okay. Here we go," I say, and I start swimming again. But I'm not headed out to sea anymore. This time, I'm heading back to shore. _No -- we are, _I think, and I'm smiling. _Because maybe now, I'll get a chance to find out what's bugging him, too. What that sadness in his eyes is all about. Maybe I'll even get to chase it away. _Even though I know I can't be his lover, I still want to try to do that. It's the least I can do, when he's done so much for me.

True to form, now that the worst danger's over, Bobby starts to grumble. "Swimming in the -- o-ocean, in the -- mi-middle of the fuh-friggin' night," he mutters. "Ya see-through lu-lunatic!"

My smile gets bigger. He's so cold, his teeth are starting to chatter; but he's never too cold for that. _That's my Bobby. "_Ya know, Hobbes, it's not considered polite to insult your friendly neighborhood lifeguard. Especially not when he's giving you a tow, " I tease. 

But inside, I feel better already. _It's not like all's suddenly right with my world, but this comes close. Damn close_. _We're not gonna have sex, but in spite of what I did, Hobbes cares about me. Enough to even brave swimming in the ocean at night, which I sense was not a happy experience for him. And knowing that there's at least one person in my new life I can count on, someone who gives a shit if I decide to take a long, moonlight swim out to nowhere…. Well, let's just say it makes that big black hole inside me seem a helluva lot smaller._

Hobbes came for me. For me, not the damn gland. Got a feeling he always will, no matter what. So I guess I'll have to find a way to put up with the gland, the needle, the Fat Man, the Agency, my demon, and all the rest of it.

For him.

*************************

I hold onto Darien's shoulders and let him tow me for awhile, while I take deep breaths to get my strength back. _Figure he owes me anyway, for this crazy stunt. What the hell were you thinking, Fawkes?_ I want to ask him, but I don't. I want to yell at him for scaring the shit out of me like this, but I don't do that either. Something tells me not to._ Maybe it's just common sense, 'cause if he wanted to tell me what this was all about, I guess he would. Or maybe it's experience. I've been with Fawkes long enough to know how stubborn he can get, if you come down on him hard. Then again -- maybe I'm not asking 'cause I'm afraid I already know. It'd be even worse to hear it from him, to hear him say I drove him out into this black water all alone, in the middle of the night_.

I swallow hard. _It's gotta be at least partly my fault. Whatever's bugging him, I added to it. Made it worse, when I threw him out. _

And now he's saving my ass. That makes me feel even worse. 

"I'm too old for this shit, and you're too young. It ain't gonna happen. So go home." The words ring in my head, and I curse myself. _I was an idiot. I shouldn't've said that! I should've helped him, instead of throwing him out. Plus, I should've seen this whole thing coming. Fawkes has been different lately. He hasn't exactly been Mr. Happy since they put the gland in his head, but ever since he talked to that damn phony psychic, went Quicksilver crazy and choked me, he's gotten worse. More uptight. Moodier than usual. He's been down. Not smiling much. I've seen this dark look in his eyes sometimes, when we're at the Agency. He's started calling me a lot late at night, too. Never about anything much, just wanting to talk. _

It wasn't anything major, just some little differences in him, but I should've taken them more seriously. Should've seen what all those little things add up to. Doesn't take a genius to guess that Fawkes is probably feeling lonely. Isolated. More depressed than usual. If anyone should've picked up on that, it's me. I'm his partner, I'm supposed to take care of him. I should've tried to talk to him. To explain things. Tell him it'd be all right. That he didn't have to do something like this. That we don't have to do **that**, either. Don't have to have sex to get him through this. I should've --

"You okay, Hobbes?" 

Fawkes stops swimming for a second and looks back over his shoulder at me. The moonlight's so bright I can see his eyes, see the concern in them. _Damn. Even now, even after what he just did, he's worried about **me**. It's fucking incredible!_ For a second, that warmth in his eyes even gets past my fear about doing it with a guy. _I'd do it_, I think impulsively. _For you, I'd do it_. _Hell, I'd do just about anything, to keep you from ever trying something like this again._

But the strength of my own response scares me. _I get this surge, this uncontrollable surge of feeling, every time he's close to me. I can't stop it_. _Even now, even though I know he's just rescuing me, it turns me on, holding onto him_. 

I still can't admit it, though. Can't tell him_. If I did, that'd make it real_. _If I did, then I'd have to do something about it. "Pony up," as the Keep would say. And part of me, the coward part, is still hoping that I won't have to. That Darien won't figure out how much I want to. 'Cause I don't think I'd be good for him. He's messed up enough as it is, between that damn gland and the Keeper and counteragent and the Fat Man, without getting involved with Lithium Bobby, to boot._

"I'm fine," I say gruffly instead. "Just keep goin'. It's cold out here."

"Wimp," Fawkes snickers. 

"Nutcase!" I shoot back, shivering. And it feels good, so damn good to be insulting him again, doing the partner thing again, that I find myself smiling back.

Fawkes grins, and keeps on swimming.

**************************

I head for shore. I swim slowly, carefully, so Hobbes won't lose hold, and I can conserve my energy. Because it's hard, pulling both of us in. Harder than I thought it would be. But Hobbes is kicking his feet to help push us along, and it seems to have warmed him up a bit, because his teeth have stopped chattering. After awhile, to distract myself from how tired I'm getting, I ask, "Ya wanna hear something funny, Hobbes?" But that's really Fawkespeak for, _Damn_, _I'm glad you're here._

"What, like the size of your I.Q.?" Hobbes replies. Which translates to, _Ditto. I got your back, partner_. 

I smile. _It's like this little code we have. The partnership code. No one else could decipher it, but we know exactly what it means. I love it_. "I thought you were my brother," I tell him.

"What, Kevin?" Hobbes sputters, like he just choked on salt water. 

__

Ha! Knew that'd get him. "Don'tcha mean who?" I correct him, needling him some more.

"Don't try to distract me, Fawkes. I mean Kevin Fawkes. Your only brother, in case you forgot. The smart Fawkes, the scientist guy."

I grin. "You wound me, Hobbes, you really do --"

Bobby snorts. "I think you already got a wound, my friend. A serious head wound. How could you think I was him, when he's dead?"

"Well, ya gotta admit, it's a little spooky. Hearing someone call your name when you're swimming way out in the ocean at night, thinking you're all alone --"

I feel a tug on my shoulders, and suddenly Hobbes' head is right beside mine. "Hey. You're not alone, Darien." He breathes the words in my ear, and he called me by my first name, so I know he's not joking anymore. 

I shiver, knowing what's behind those words_. Love. Trust. Everything I thought I'd lost, when I attacked him_. _But Bobby came through for me again, like he always does. In spite of that, in spite of everything. _I feel a huge surge of gratitude, relief and affection. _I don't deserve him. I've never done anything in my life, to deserve having a friend like this. _I get a lump in my throat, and for a minute, I can't answer. When I can finally talk again, I just nod and say, "Gotcha, Hobbesy."

__

It's not much, and I know it, but it's enough for Hobbes. The two of us, we don't need Hallmark cards. He squeezes my shoulder. _Message received_. "Good. Now I'm gonna let go, okay?" he says. "'Cause I got my breath back. I can take it from here, Fawkesy. We'll both swim back together."

"Okay." _Together. That's a good word. I like the sound of that_. I turn to look at him as he paddles around next to me, and I smile. I can't resist teasing him again. _Teasing Hobbes is almost as much fun as theft used to be. Sometimes I think it's even better_. "Race ya to the beach?" 

Bobby rolls his eyes. "Just swim, kid," he says. But he's smiling too.

*****************************

Finally, after what seems like forever, we get back to water that's shallow enough to walk in. _Thank God. _I stand up, but I'm shivering with cold, and so tired that I'm stumbling. I can only imagine how wiped out Darien must be after swimming even further, then towing me partway back. But he's moving along beside me, wading now too, and I feel a wave of pure relief. _It could've been worse. Much worse. _At least we didn't meet up with any sharks or snakes or anything else with teeth and an appetite, out there. Most of all, I'm grateful that Darien's safe, that he agreed to come back in without a fight. _I was gonna drag him back if I had to, but_ _by the time I found him, I wasn't up for that. So if he'd tried to fight me, we might've both gone under._

I try to push that thought out of my head. _It didn't happen, so just let it go._

We're both breathing hard, so we don't say anything, we just push on towards shore. I think longingly of my dry jacket, of getting back to the van and turning the heat on. I know Darien must be as cold as I am. And I know I probably shouldn't do this, but I remember how beautiful he looked on the beach before he went into the water, and I can't resist taking another look. So once the water's only up to his thighs, I steal a glance at him. 

__

Oh jeez. That was dumb. Really stupid. 'Cause that one little peek sends a flash of desire through me. _I must look like a wet rat._ _But Darien doesn't. He's shivering a little, and I know he's gotta be cold and tired, but he still looks good. Being wet suits him. For once, his wild hair looks sleek. It's slicked back on his head, and his muscles are outlined with all these silvery drops of water. He looks sexy, like a fucking mermaid or something. Big and wet and sleek and beautiful. Best of all, he's naked. Oh yeah. Man, is he naked!_

I feel a wave of heat now, stronger than before. _Naked looks good on Darien. Really, really good. _

Then I feel guilty. _I shouldn't be looking at him like this, or thinking about him like this either. Not now, not after what he just went through. I know that_. But I can't make myself stop. _We're all alone here, it's probably past midnight and damn, I don't think I've ever wanted anyone this bad in my whole life._

My little look turns into an outright stare. I can't help it.

__

Worst of all, Fawkes sees it. He catches me looking. He meets my gaze, and holds it. He's shivering, but he smiles. This funny, crooked, almost shy little smile.

__

Oh shit.

******************************

__

I'm tired. I am so, so tired, it's hard to keep on moving. But it feels good to have sand under my feet again. Not to have to swim anymore. It was kinda rough, towing Bobby back. A lot harder than I let him see. Guess I was more freaked than I realized, 'cause I'd gone a helluva long way out. So it took a lot out of me, getting us both back through those big waves. Couple of times, I was afraid we might not make it. I just told myself I had to. I got Hobbes into this, so I had to get him out. 

Now he is. We're both okay; and fuck, I'm glad that's over. 

Now that Hobbes found me and stopped me, my future doesn't seem nearly as bleak. Even though I'm cold and tired, it's good to be alive. To have hope, and someone beside me. _No, not just someone -- Bobby Hobbes. _I smile to myself.

We're too breathless from the long swim and the cold to say anything yet. We just keep going, trying not to let the waves sweep us off our feet again. At some point, I realize that the water's only up to my thighs now. At first, all I feel is relief. Then I realize that Bobby's looking at me really intently. I can feel it, feel his dark gaze on my skin. I glance over at him while we stumble on towards shore, thinking something must be wrong.

Hobbes is still shivering. But he doesn't seem to mind, or even notice. He's too busy staring at me. I can't figure out why, and I get embarrassed. I realize that this is the first time he's ever seen me naked, and the same awkwardness I felt in his apartment comes back again. I feel like I'm about twelve years old. Like I'm this overgrown, gawky kid whose body hasn't caught up with his huge hands and feet yet. I feel awkward and insecure_. Hobbes probably thinks I'm too skinny. Or else I've got seaweed stuck to my ass, and he's about to burst out laughing. _

I almost look down to check. Then I notice the strange intensity of his stare, and I forget all about it. My mouth goes dry. Because Hobbes isn't just looking at me_, _he's practically _devouring_ me with his eyes_._ They're wide and dark and even in the moonlight, I can see something that looks like hunger in them. 

I blink at him, stunned. _I'd totally given up on the idea that he'd ever want me before I took my swim. Hell, I'd given up on everything_. But now that I'm safe, and I know that he cares about me, and I actually caught him looking -- well, let's just say that I don't feel awkward anymore. Thrilled would be more like it. Turned on, too. _That's me. One step away from death, and I'm already thinking about sex again. _I shrug. _So sue me. I'm a horny bastard._

But I'm also a bit confused. _I_ _thought he didn't want me! I thought_…. _I'm not sure what I thought, but that look in his eyes tells me that maybe, just maybe, I was wrong._ _This may be a whole new ball game._ _Maybe Bobby's a switch hitter after all._ _Oh wow! Oh, baby -- please let it be true._

When he sees me watching, though, Hobbes looks away again. It doesn't take a genius to read that sign. _He wants me, but he's embarrassed about it. So if he is bi or gay, I don't think he's ready to admit it. _Still, despite my weariness, I feel this rush. This time, I'm not sure if it's excitement or fear, or both. _He has so much power over me, and he doesn't even know it. _

Yet. 

I smile at him. This goofy little smile, 'cause I feel a bit dizzy. Cold and tired and chilled on the outside, but hot on the inside. I tease him. I can't help it. I take a deep breath to steady my voice, and ask sweetly, "Whatcha lookin' at, Hobbesy?"

Bobby blinks, like I just woke him up from a deep sleep. Then he gets even more embarrassed. I can tell, because he does this little evasive maneuver, and angles away from me. Tries to put some distance between us as we wade towards shore. "Nothin'," he mutters.

But it's no use. I've known him long enough that I can tell when he's lying. And there's no way I can let that go. _It's one of my favorite games, prying the truth out of Hobbes when he's trying to hide it from me._ So I go after him. "Oh, no. You're not …getting off that easy," I say breathlessly. "That look … meant something, I can tell."

Hobbes ignores me. I can tell he's almost exhausted, but he's like this wet little Energizer bunny. He just keeps slogging on toward the beach, unstoppable. 

__

My little tiger, I think, smiling. But I can be just as relentless when I really want something, and Bobby definitely falls into that category. "Hobbesy!" I call, following him. "Come on, you can … tell me. Why the … look?"

"That look meant …you better … get your ass … outta that water, Fawkes! Or you're gonna … catch pneumonia!" he pants. "Quicksilver … doesn't make you … immune to … cold, ya know."

__

Funny, but I don't think that look had anything to do with the cold, or Quicksilver, or my imminent threat of death from pneumonia, either. I don't think Hobbes was giving me that hot stare because he was worried that I might catch cold. Oh, no. I think he just lied to me again. 

Of course, that justintensifies my interest._ He looks really hot out here in the moonlight, with his wet clothes all plastered to him like that. You can really see how muscular he is. Jeez, look at those shoulders. And that ass, oh, mama! Mmm…. _I shiver, but now it's not just with the cold.

I force my tired body to move faster, and plow through the shallow waves until I catch up with him. "What about y-you? You were… in there a long t-time, too --" I break off, because now that I'm not swimming anymore, now that my naked body is exposed to the night air, my teeth are starting to chatter. It's distracting. I'm just trying to get a rise out of Hobbes anyway, to get his attention back. I'd say anything, to get him to look at me like that again. But he doesn't. He ignores me, just keeps on walking like he's fine. "H-Hobbes?"

He just shrugs. He won't even look at me. _He's almost out of the water now, it's only swirling around his ankles. He should look relieved, even happy, but he doesn't. He looks kinda grim._ _It's hard to believe he's the same guy who was clinging to my shoulders a little while ago. That he's the same guy who told me I'm not alone. Bet he wouldn't say that right now, if I asked him. It's like -- now that we're out of the water, out of danger, he's switching from being my friend Bobby, back to Agent Hobbes again. He's got his tough face on now, the one that says he won't talk even if you torture him, and it's like that hot look he just gave me never happened. _

My heart sinks_. I shouldn't've teased him about it. That was a mistake. I must've embarrassed him. Now he's closing himself off again. Shutting me out. Me and my big mouth. Dammit!_

But it turns out, Bobby's thoughts are far grimmer than that. Finally, he says flatly, "Don't worry about me. I'm the expendable one, remember?"

__

Ouch. That stings so much it stops me in my tracks._ That was worse than getting shut out -- it was like a slap in the face. I know that's how the Fat Man sees him, but I can't stand it when Bobby talks about himself like that! He's worth ten of me, any day. He's honest, brave, loyal and funny…. Maybe he's a bit paranoid, but he takes his pills, he does the best he can with that; and he's the best friend I've ever had._

So I start moving again. I get around in front of him as he heads up onto the sand. "Don't s-say that," I tell him sharply. "Don't!"

**********************************************************

__

Oh, shit. I was trying to push Fawkes away, for his own good. Instead, I think I pissed him off. Still, he needs to hear this. After that swim, it's obvious that he needs to get his head straight about a few things. Like which of us is the valuable one, for starters. "It's the truth," I say flatly, "and you know it. We both know it."

He shakes his head so hard that water flies. "No! Maybe that's the Official's truth, b-but it's not ours, Bobby. It's s-sure as hell not mine."

__

Darien's standing there stark naked, wet and shivering, and I swear, I don't think he even knows he's cold. He's more worried about me, about what I just said. _Now I'm sorry I opened my big mouth. I can see he's not gonna let this go_. _He won't let me look away, and what I see in his eyes is so intense that it scares me._ "Fawkes --"

He comes even closer. " I mean it! I'd t-take a bullet for you, Bobby," he says in a rush. Then he stops. Catches himself, and falls silent again. But his eyes never leave me, and I know he means it. _Hell, I think he means even more than that, more than he's saying_. This crazy suspicion crosses my mind. _Is he trying to say he'd do more than just get wounded to save me? Is he trying to tell me he'd actually die for me?_

Aw, no. No! That idea never even occurred to me before, and it jolts me_. _Then I get an even worse one, one that sends a chill down my spine_. Was that what his goddamn swim was all about? I thought he was just trying to escape his problems. But what if he did it for my sake? Was he trying to kill his demon, because it tried to kill me?_

Did Darien just try to kill himself to save me?

Oh, Jesus. FuckfuckFUCK!

Now we're both shivering. That possibility's so shocking that for a minute, I can't even speak. Darien's standing there naked and cold, with his heart in his eyes, waiting for me to respond to what he said. Say something. But I can't, because I don't know what to think. 

__

That's crazy. I can't make a nutty assumption like that, when I really don't know why he did this. _I won't know, until he tells me._

But there's so much in Darien's eyes, so much unspoken feeling, that it scares me. _Shit! It can't be that. It can't! He wouldn't've done that for me. That's nuts! I must be projecting my own emotions, my own crazy feeling that he's family, onto him. My shrinks say I tend to do that. Yeah. It must be that. I gotta be nuts to even think Darien'd do something like that, to protect me! That'd mean he doesn't just care for me, it'd mean that he -- But that's impossible! I mean, if you're willing to die for somebody when it's not part of the job, when it's not even your duty and that person's totally expendable, that's -- that would mean that you -- that he, that Darien --_

I feel like an abyss just opened up in front of me. I reel back mentally.

__

No. That's fucking ridiculous! Like Fawkes, the government's prize, their Seventeen Million Dollar Man, would care that much for a used-up old agent like me! Like Fawkes the beautiful would want somebody who's short and balding. Right. In your dreams, pal! Besides, Fawkesy's just this big kid. He hasn't even really grown up yet. Like he'd wanna die for me! Give up his whole life, just to protect me. No way! Sure, he's good-hearted and all, but that -- that's different. He hasn't got it in him to go that far, to make that kinda sacrifice for anyone, let alone me. I'd have to be delusional, to think he took that swim for me. Time for another session on the couch or something.

That scary scenario, that bit of paranoia, fizzles out and dies, and I'm glad. It's a relief to let go of it. _Don't know what I was thinking. Fawkes would never do that! I bet this was all about him, not me. If I'm right, if he's been depressed, he probably just got fed up. Figured he'd had it up to here with having to take orders from the Fat Man. Got fed up with the Agency, and his Keeper, and counteragent and the whole shebang, and acted on impulse, like he always does. Decided to take the easy way out._

I can see Fawkes doing that. 

I want it to be that. Wanna believe this is all about him, not about me. But it still pisses me off, big time. _If that's why he did it, I should hit him up side his dumb, childish head. Knock some sense into him. Then again, it's hard to tell just what was going on in the wild child's brain this time. Maybe he wasn't just acting out of spite, or self pity, or on the spur of the moment, as usual. Maybe he had some other reason, some better reason, for that swim. Until I find out for sure, I should cut him some slack._

There's also one other possibility: the gland_. Maybe the gland somehow made him do this. Now that Fawkes's got that thing in his head, he can be nutty. Dark. Even deadly. _I don't want to think about that right now, but I know I have to. _'Cause it's possible that might be part of what drove him out here. That goddamn gland. It's part of him, but he doesn't wanna accept that. Oh, he loves the going invisible bit. The sneaking around. That suits him right down to his larcenous little toes. But the dark side of it, the part where he goes Red-Eyed and gets crazy, that scares the crap outta him. _

That's one thing that surprised everybody; how much ole Red Eyes gets to Fawkes. Guess they thought that because he was a thief and an ex-con, he wouldn't care much about people, or about who he hurts when he goes nuts. But they really underestimated him there. He does care. And it ain't his own pain he worries about, either. I know that's agonizing, but he never talks about how much it hurts him when his eyes turn red. He just worries about everyone else, after. "Hobbes, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, man. I'm sorry.…"

Deep down, Darien's a pacifist. He hates what going Quicksilver crazy does to him. How it makes him violent. Hell, I don't like it much myself. Hate it that he got the drop on me, last time that happened. But that wasn't such a big deal, to me. It wasn't the first time someone tried to kill me, and it won't be the last. It wasn't even Darien's fault, 'cause it wasn't even **him**. I know that, and I don't blame him. 

Wonder if he's still blaming himself, though. He was pretty upset, after it happened. In fact, he's been different ever since. I'll have to talk to him about it. Find out if that's part of what's bugging him, that loss of control. The things his demon does, that he can't stop. But if it is, tough shit! If I can deal with it, then Fawkes can, too. He's damn well gonna have to. Like it or not, that's his reality now. He's gotta face up to it. 

But how do you tell a pacifist that he's a killer now, and he'd better learn to like it? It's not easy. Especially since my reactions to Fawkes probably aren't exactly rational, either. I look into his eyes and think, _Maybe he's not the only one who's got a death wish_. _'Cause_ _I know all that. Know all about Darien's demon, what the gland can turn him into, and how scary he can get. But I still want him._

Maybe the real question is, which one of us is crazier? What really scares me is, I don't know.

All I know for sure is, we're both cold, and shivering, and scared -- and Darien still needs help.

His big eyes are still searching mine. Half of me wants to smack him, for putting me through this. But the other half is so fucking relieved that he's okay, so happy that he's still with me, that it wants to kiss him. That half wins out. I don't kiss him, but I don't yell at him, either. 

__

Somehow, I just can't be hard on him. _Not now_. _Even though he probably deserves it. I mean, how can you yell at your partner when he just said he'd take a bullet for you? What I'd really like to do is take him in my arms and hold him, instead. Tell him everything will be all right, and never to try anything like this again. Tell him not to even think of crazy shit like this, ever again._

It's all so complicated -- such a mess, but such an important one -- that I don't know what to do next. Don't even know what the hell to say to him. _It's all too much, and I could be wrong about his motives, too. Maybe it isn't his demon, or even working for the Agency, that's bothering him. Maybe he's got something else going on in his life. Something that freaked him out, that I don't even know about._

Yet.

But I will, I promise myself. _I'll find out what's bugging Fawkes, and soon. _

But right now, I'm so worn out, I can't think straight. And I don't want to make a mistake. _Not about this. Not about Darien. He's too important. And not 'cause of that gland in his head. 'Cause he's more than just my partner, he's family. And I take care of my own. _

So I don't quiz him about his crazy swim yet, or about how far he'd go to protect me, either. I fall back on my training instead. On practicality. _We gotta get warm first_, I tell myself. _Survival first. Then we'll deal with the rest of it._

"Come on, Fawkes. Let's find your clothes, before you freeze to death."

***************************

I follow Bobby down the beach because he seems to know where he's going, and I don't. In more ways than one. I'm confused. _Don't know how I expected him to react to what I said, but it wasn't like that, anyway. I thought he'd be glad to know that I feel the same kind of loyalty for him that he does for me. I was trying to tell him how much I respect him. How much I care. Maybe I was even trying to tell him why I took that swim. But Bobby doesn't look glad. He looks scared. Like I scared him to death. _

Aw, crap.

**************************

Fawkes and I don't talk anymore as we head down the beach. By the time we find the spot where we left our clothes, we're both about chilled to the bone. Not to mention tired. But there's so much still unresolved between us, I can feel it hanging in the air like the threat of thunder. _So much happened, so fast -- and it's not over yet. No way._

I still don't know what to say to him, so I busy myself with digging up the stuff I buried in the sand before I went after him. I dig through the cold sand for my watch, my wallet and my keys. But it's awkward, because my hands are so cold they're almost numb. They're clumsy and they shake; and I can feel Darien's eyes on my back the whole time. Those big, innocent, bewildered eyes. That doesn't help anything. 

I shoot a quick sideways glance at him. He's not moving, he's just standing there shivering while he watches me. _He looks hurt. Even a little lost. I know it's because of me, 'cause I didn't react the way he wanted. Again. Dammit! I don't want him to freeze to death, just 'cause I can't think of anything comforting to say right now. _"Get dressed, Fawkes, and let's get outta here," I tell him, my voice gruff with guilt.

For once, Fawkes doesn't say anything. No jokes, no smart remarks, no nothing. He just turns away, picks up his clothes and starts putting them on again, without a word. It's not like him to be so obedient, but still, I'm kind of grateful. _He's already gotten us both in way over our heads tonight -- literally and figuratively. Enough, already_. It's safer not to say anything else right now. Safer for me not to watch him getting dressed, either, so I don't.

But when he gets his jeans and shirt on, and I turn to face him again, I see that he's still shivering. _Guess he still isn't dry. So when he put his clothes on, they just got wet and clammy_. _Besides, all he's got on is a T-shirt and jeans. He was so upset when he left my apartment that he forgot to take his jacket_. I'm cold too, but I start towards him automatically, my jacket in my hand. _It's way too small to fit him._ _But at least it's dry, so it'll warm him up a little_. 

"Here. Put this over your shoulders," I tell him.

"Thanks." Darien bends down a little, so I can pull my jacket around him. But that brings his face close to mine, and in a second, our eyes lock. He doesn't say anything, but he looks sad. So fucking sad, it scares me all over again. 

He closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against mine. "Bobby," he whispers.

One word from him, and I'm back on the edge of that abyss again.

__

It's because there's so much behind that word. A whole ocean of feeling, all the intensity I saw in his eyes, back at my apartment. It's still there inside him. I can feel it, waiting to pour over me if I let it. _I can feel him shaking, and I know what he wants. Comfort. Contact. A touch. Something, anything to make the fucking loneliness go away. That's not so much to ask, especially after what he just did. And I know just how shitty it is, being alone. No one knows that better than me. But he's looking in the wrong place. Looking to the wrong guy. I can't even save myself. How am I gonna save him?_

__

But I want to. Christ, I want to. I want it more than I've wanted anything since Vivian left. So this time, I don't push him away. I stand there and let him lean on me. Feel his warm breath on the cold skin of my face. It feels good, being so close to him. It feels right. Like maybe he could thaw something out inside of me. Something that's been frozen for a long time. 

__

All of a sudden, I'm not sure who's saving who here. I think about his mouth, only inches from mine. I think how young he is, how beautiful. I think about the cold, uncaring ocean. How it almost got me once. How it almost got him tonight. I think about Darien out there alone in that goddamn black water, think about how close I came to losing him, and how empty my life would be without him, and I feel like I can't breathe.

Suddenly, the warmth of his forehead against mine isn't enough. I want to touch him. I need to. My shaky hands end up on his shoulders. Darien's still shivering under my jacket, and he doesn't try to pull away. I don't let go, either. For a minute, we just hold on.

Then somehow, our mouths touch. Just for a second. I'm so surprised, I don't even think to pull away. Darien's lips are cold at first, but the kiss warms them. It's just a gentle, shaky little kiss, but somehow, it warms me, too. _Darien's lips are full and soft. God, they're soft. _It stuns me, how good that kiss is.

Then something wet touches my lips. Something salty. I open my eyes and see that though Darien's eyes are shut tight, tears are sliding down his cheeks. It's terrible, seeing him like that. Seeing him break. Stunned, afraid I'll embarrass him if I say anything, I freeze. 

Darien shakes his bowed head and whispers, "Sorry. This is -- stupid. I know." He draws a ragged breath. "But Bobby, I'm … so damn scared --"

The words are wrenched out of him. _Even now, after all we've been through, he didn't wanna admit that. Didn't wanna tell me. _

But he did. He finally did, and he keeps saying my first name, and I know what that means. _Whatever his problem is, he wants to live. He's asking for help._ It touches me so deep, I don't have words for it. So I do what we always do. The guy thing. I tell a little joke. Try to cover it up.

"Ya shoulda told me sooner. Saved me the swim," I say. But my voice is hoarse, and my eyes are stinging. Because I think maybe he did ask. That all his recent late-night phone calls, and all his pleas back at my apartment that we "get to know each other better", was him trying to say that, trying to reach out. But I wasn't listening.

Darien tries to smile. But he can't quite do it. His face crumples instead, and more tears fall. "Bobby…."

__

That's it. _I can't take any more._

"C'mere." I know it's wrong. It's crazy. It's dangerous. But I do it anyway. I take Darien in my arms and hold him. Hold him tight. He pushes his face into my shoulder, digs his fingers into my back as he makes these terrible choking, gasping sounds. He's trying to hold it in, to still his sobs, but he can't. It's like it's all pouring out of him. All the pain, all the loneliness and fear, every stroke he took on that long, cold swim out to nowhere.

__

He probably doesn't think that's a good thing, but I know it is. _You can't keep stuff that deep and dark trapped inside, or it'll kill you._ _It almost did._ So I hold his wet head in one hand and stroke his back with the other, while he chokes and shudders in my arms, while his chest heaves and his tears rain down on my shoulder. He feels cold, and I'm still wet and cold too, but I try to warm him with my body anyway. 

__

It's been so long since I've held someone like this. Too long. _I wish it had happened some other way -- Hell, any other way -- but it feels good, holding him_. I know I'm probably damning us both, but I can't let go. Can't turn him away again. _Whatever happens now, it's on me_, I think. _All of it._

"I'm sorry," Darien whispers blindly. "Sorry --"

__

I'm not sure what he means. Sorry he broke down, sorry he hurt me that time, sorry he decided to take that swim -- or sorry he came back? Maybe all of that. Anyhow, it doesn't matter. 

"It's okay," I say gently. "I'm sorry, too." _For turning you away before. For not realizing how bad you've been feeling, until it was almost too late_. _For not being able to tell you the truth…_

I hear another broken sob. It cuts through me, 'cause I know I hurt him_. If it wasn't for me, I don't think he'd've gotten so desperate. Done something this stupid._ Still, Darien doesn't let go. If anything, he holds on even tighter. 

__

Maybe that means he forgives me. I know I need him to.

I hold onto him just as tight. "It'll be all right, Darien," I tell him. _Don't know if that's the truth, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is, he came back. And I'm not letting go, either._

I'll take the bullet. Take whatever comes. Do whatever I have to, to help him. 'Cause he'd do it for me. 

****

THE END

__


	2. Distinctions

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Author: Devyn Lyonesse

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Email address: dlyonesse@hotmail.com

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Fandom: Invisible Man

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Disclaimers: The usual. Don't own 'em, wish I did. Yadda, yadda.

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Category: Slash, romance, drama, episode coda, angst

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Pairing: Darien/Bobby 

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Rating: NC-17 

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Spoilers: A few for "Ralph" and "Tiresias"

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Archiving: Anyone who wants to, please ask me first.

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Series note: This is story #2 in my slash series, "Thief of Hearts". 

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Summary: Having rescued Darien from a watery death, a tired Bobby Hobbes has to decide how best to take care of his wet, confused, yet very sexy partner.

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Author's notes: This is set after the events in "Tieresias", in a slightly alternate universe. If you like slash with angst and romance, try this. And please bear in mind, the author deeply appreciates feedback. Oh yeah! Kinda the way Darien craves counteragent. Only without the red-eye problem. : )

March 16, 2002

Distinctions

© Devyn Lyonesse

Fawkes and I don't talk much on the way back to my van. _We're both tired and freaked. It's been a helluva night. We probably learned more about each other tonight than we did in the past six months. Not all of it was good. Some of it -- like Fawkes trying to off himself -- was fucking scary. But some of it was amazing. _

Darien naked…. His mouth on mine, his heart beating against my chest…. 

Amazing.

I look over at Fawkes while we trudge through the sand. _He seems a little better now. He looks tired, but not totally down. Not like he's carrying the world on his shoulders anymore. Maybe the crying helped._ _Or maybe -- maybe it was the kiss._

The thought makes me hot all over again. But I know I could be wrong. Wouldn't be the first time. And I don't want to get my hopes up, so I don't touch him. Darien doesn't touch me either. We walk side by side, like always, except this time, we're both careful not to get too close. No accidental touching or bumping. _Like the fate of the free world hangs in the balance, or something. _That's so silly, it makes me smile. 

__

Then again, maybe we're just afraid we might lose control if we touch again. That's not so dumb. I look at the way his wet hair curls around the back of his neck as we walk, and my mouth goes dry. Just from looking. _Yeah, that's probably it -- the touching thing._

Finally, as we head for the stairs, Darien asks, "How'd you find me?" 

__

Wondered how long it was gonna take him to think of that. I grin. "You can run, but you can't hide, Invisible Boy."

"No, really. How'd you know where I was? I went see-through, so you couldn't've followed me…." Fawkes stops at the foot of the stairs. Turns and looks at me, all wide-eyed and intent, like he's not going a step further until I tell him.

__

At least his curiosity's coming back. Maybe that's a good sign. Or it could be that he's just tired, and trying to distract me so he can put off climbing the stairs._ Either way, I'm not about to give in. Can't give away all my secrets. _So I just wave him on. "Tell ya what, Fawkes. If you get your ass in gear and start climbing, maybe I'll tell ya when we get back to the van."

Darien rolls his eyes. "Geez. Why don'tcha just offer me a lolly pop?" he complains. Still, he starts walking up the stairs, like I told him.

I smirk at his back. "Left 'em all in the van. But if you're really good, you can have one when we get there."

Fawkes snorts and shakes his head, but he keeps on climbing. _Like a good little son_, I think, grinning to myself. But then I get this image in my mind: _Darien's full lips wrapped around a sucker. Licking the hell out of it, and -- whoa, boy. Maybe I don't really think of myself as his dad, after all. 'Cause a dad wouldn't have thoughts like that about his son._

************************

I look out the window while Hobbes drives. I'm tired. Drained. Hell, I'm exhausted. Inside and out. After bottoming out emotionally, going for that long swim, and towing Bobby halfway back, I feel half dead. No -- make that mostly dead. My arms and legs ache, and I've got sand sticking to parts of me that I don't even want to think about. But I can't relax, because I'm still stirred up inside. I've got all these thoughts and feelings roiling inside, that won't let me rest. 

__

I still don't know how Bobby found me. But God, I'm glad he did. _I can't believe I did that!_ _That long swim, that cold water…. It already seems like a dream. Like it happened to somebody else. Like that was some other guy out there naked in the ocean, trying to leave his life behind. But I know it was real. That was me. It's fucking scary_. _The only time I ever tried anything like that before was when I first wound up in prison. Never thought I'd get that down again_. 

I keep thinking, _I could be dead now. If it wasn't for Bobby, I would be._

It gives me the shivers. 

__

Still -- things're looking up. I'm warming up, drying off, and I'm with Bobby. So death doesn't seem like such an attractive prospect right now. In fact, it seems like one of the dumber ideas I've had lately. Still hate the thought of taking up my life as a government slave again, but if I can talk to Hobbes about the worst of it, about how scared I am of the Quicksilver madness, then maybe it'll get better. Maybe between the two of us, we can work out some way to keep him safe.

And above all that dark stuff, high above all my worries and fears, floating feather light, is the memory of that kiss. 

__

Bobby came for me. Held me. Kissed me….

What does that mean? 

I chew my lip. _Maybe nothing. I'm a guy, he's a guy -- guys do crazy, horny things all the time. Half of 'em don't mean anything, except that we're horny. Wonder if that kiss on the beach was like that. Maybe Bobby just got curious. Or maybe he was just humoring me. He knows I want him now, so maybe he just gave me that kiss to make me feel better. Maybe he just let it happen, without really wanting it to. For my sake. _

Then a darker thought crosses my mind. _He's so protective … just how far would he go, for my sake? Was that kiss just a ploy? Did he have some corny idea that his kiss would give me a reason to live?_

Well … maybe. Okay, so maybe it did.

But I hate the idea that he might've done it for that reason, and not because he's hot for me. I've always hated being jerked around, and this past year, I've been manipulated so much -- by everyone from Swiss terrorists to most of the staff at the Agency -- that I might as well have a big "Kick Me" sign on my back. It kills me to think Bobby might do that to me, too. That he'd kiss me just to perk me up, with no intention of following through. That sucks! Big time. 

I don't want to believe that's true. My ego sure doesn't. _Besides, it's not like Hobbes, either._ _He's never lied to me. He's probably the most honest person I've ever known_. I look over at him. Search his face for clues to the puzzle. For hints of manipulation, or some real interest in me. But I don't see either one. _Bobby's quiet. Watching the traffic. His lips are pursed_. _He looks thoughtful, like he's got a lot on his mind. But whatever it is, he's not in the mood to share._

Dammit! 

Down on the beach, I felt close to him. Now, he's shutting me out again. That makes me feel resentful, even sullen. For a second, I almost lash out at him. _What the hell was that about, huh? Down on the beach? Did you really kiss me, or was that just a dream?_

Then I notice that Hobbes' clothes are still damp and sticking to him, and that his hair's wet too, like mine. _Stupid question. That whole thing -- the swim, the way I cried, and our kiss -- it was real, and I came close. Damn close to dying. I think we both did. _

My momentary anger fades. My emotions veer again, from anger and suspicion back to gratitude. _So what if that kiss didn't mean a goddamn thing? He still saved me._ _I owe Bobby my life. _I look away, back out the window into the night. _Compared to that, a kiss is nothing._

__

So I won't ask him what the kiss meant. Not yet. I owe him that much. Or maybe I'm just afraid to know the truth. Or too damn tired to deal with it. Either way, I guess now's not the time. So I rub my arms, trying to work out the soreness in my biceps after that long swim, and search for something else to say.

"Where're we going?" I try to make the question sound casual, but it really isn't. _I'm afraid Hobbes is just gonna take me home and leave me there. With lots of unanswered questions. With no one to talk to. _I don't want that. I still feel shaky. Not like myself.

I need him, I just can't say it.

"To my place," Hobbes answers. "Least that way, I can keep an eye on you."

I feel this little rush of emotion. Warmer than gratitude, softer than desire. _Good! He's not leaving me_. _But I wonder if it has anything to do with that kiss, or if he's just being protective? Then again, what does it matter why he's taking me home? I get to be with him, which is what I want. For now, that's enough_. _And at least over at his place, I won't have to worry about anyone busting in on us, trying to kidnap or kill me. Bobby's got a helluva security system. Besides, he _is_ his own security system. Bobby's dangerous. I pity the poor fool who tries to bust into his place. He'd be sorry. Then he'd be dead._

But I'm not. Thanks to Bobby, I'm neither of those things. Instead, I'm glad that he decided to take me home with him. _Nice of him to do this for me. Lots of guys wouldn't_. So I open my mouth to thank him, but pride makes me change my mind at the last second. _After all, I'm supposed to be the big, bad Invisible Man -- not Needy, Clingy, Helpless Man. _So even though that's how I feel, I swallow the thanks, stifle the impulse to reach out to him, and play it cool instead.

"Okay. If you insist," I shrug. I try to sound like I don't really care. Like I'm fine, like I'm tough, like what just happened didn't scare the hell out of me. Like I'm only going to Hobbes' place to humor him, not because I'm terrified of being alone. 

__

Dunno why I'm putting up this front, though. Especially after what happened down on the beach. I didn't just tell him I was scared, I actually broke down and cried in his arms like a girl. Even though he didn't razz me about it, I doubt Hobbes has any illusions about my ability to cope, after that. _Maybe I'm just feeling weird 'cause he's suddenly gone quiet, and put some distance between us again. What happened down on the beach felt so right, but he hasn't touched me, or even looked at me like that since._

It's scary._ Wonder if he regrets our kiss_? 

That thought hurts. To cover it, I just stay on my side of the van, and try to look tough. Impervious. Uncaring. Like the total punk I know Hobbes thought I was, when we first met. But my little act works all too well. Because Hobbes shoots a glance at me, then his mouth tightens like he's pissed off. He shakes his head silently, but I know what he's thinking. I can read his face like a book, and right now, it's saying, _Fawkes, you ungrateful bastard._

__

Uh oh! Maybe I went a little overboard there. _Didn't mean to piss him off_. "I mean … I'm okay now, Bobby. Really," I say hastily, trying to make up for it. "So if you want, you can just -- take me back to my place. I don't wanna … you know. Cause you any trouble."

Hobbes snorts, and shakes his head again. "Shoulda thought o' that before you went swimmin', my friend." 

__

Ouch. _He's right. He's SO fucking right!_ _He probably didn't follow me half a mile out into the ocean just because he loves to swim. I must've scared the shit out of him._ I hang my head. _I already tried to say I was sorry for that on the beach, but I know it wasn't enough. _

I know what might be enough, though. _I promised myself I'd talk this out with him_. _Maybe this is the time._ _Maybe I should say it. Tell the truth. Try to explain. Tell him I did it for him, because I wanted to protect him_. 

Then I remember how he looked, when I said I'd take a bullet for him. _I stopped short of telling him the truth, that I'd die for him, but he still looked like it scared him silly. So if I tell him I took that swim for him, he'll probably freak. _

I think about his fear for a minute. Try to figure out where it might come from. _Maybe it's because he feels responsible somehow. That'd make sense, 'cause that's how Bobby is. He takes the world on his shoulders. Including me, and all my problems. I don't want him to feel worse about it than he already does, but I'm too tired to lie to him. If I start talking now, the truth would come out. So maybe I'd better wait_. _He's already been through a lot tonight, because of me._

So I lay my head back on the seat, close my eyes, and shut my mouth too. _At least that way, I won't get in any more trouble._

But I can feel Hobbes looking at me. Finally, he says quietly, "It's Friday night, Fawkes. We don't haveta work tomorrow, so it's no big deal if you stay over. We got no alarm to get up for. We can sleep in. Okay?"

I may be an ungrateful bastard, but it seems that Bobby's forgiven me anyway. And this time, I know better than to even pretend that I don't care. I open my eyes and smile at him. "Sounds good. Are you sure?" 

A slow smile spreads across Hobbes' face, too. "Yeah. Just one thing, though. No goin' invisible this time. I want you where I can see you."

__

Now that sounds interesting, I think, my hopes flaring again. _That sounds really_ -- _did he just say he **wants** me? _Tired as I am, something inside me perks right up at that. I sit up and smile at him. "Yeah?" I say it softly. Maybe even a little flirty. 

But Bobby doesn't respond. At least, not like I want him to. He just gives me this curt, "Yeah." Then he turns away, and stares straight ahead at the freeway like he's embarrassed_. Usually, I can't resist that. Teasing Bobby when he's embarrassed is like sipping really good champagne. It's pure fun. Goes to my head. And now that I know he blushes, well…. _I open my mouth to indulge myself, to tease him, to start prying into it. Force him to tell me if he really was flirting with me there.

But I change my mind at the last minute, and shut it again. Tonight, for once, I decide to cut Bobby some slack. _He just saved my ass, and he's taking me home to boot. So I guess the least I can do is lay off the teasing. For now, anyway. Tomorrow, of course, all bets will be off again. But just for tonight, I'll be good._

I lean back against the seat again, filled with good intentions. Shining with virtue. Darien the Good Boy, with mouth firmly zipped.

That lasts about all of ten seconds. Then I get this annoying, internal itch. _This goes against the grain_. _Not teasing Bobby's like -- well, like not eating chocolate or something. It sucks. _

I want -- no, I need -- to do something. Hmm. Well, if I can't tease him, I can at least scope him out. Feast my eyes…. So instead of going to sleep, I just pretend to close my eyes, and lie there watching him from underneath my lashes instead. _It's this little trick I learned in prison. It still comes in handy once in awhile._ _Like when I want a little eye candy. Like now…._

While I study Hobbes on the sly, the sarcastic part of me has a field day. _What're you doing? What're you hoping for, anyway? You really think Hobbes will blush again? Or give you another hot stare?_ _Hey, maybe if you get real lucky, he'll blurt out a spontaneous confession! Tell you all his secrets! Like what he meant by that kiss, and how he feels about you. Oh, yeah, Fawkes. That's right! He's gonna say he's madly in love. That it's you, only you, and that he's really taking you back to his place for a night of wild, passionate --._

Shut up, I tell it sourly. _It could happen!_

But I don't really believe that. _I'm not even really sure Bobby wants me. Not right now. I was sure of it down on the beach, I was sure as hell when he kissed me, but now…. Now that I've had time to think…_

Insecurity rears its ugly head again.

__

It just doesn't seem possible. Hobbes doesn't trust people easily. Doesn't like to let them in. I mean, I know I'm a bit of an exception. He let me in to a certain extent; he proved that tonight. There's a kind of love there, and it's real. I know it. I feel it. It's why he came after me tonight. But there's a lot of different kinds of love. So the question is, what kind is it, exactly, that Robert Hobbes feels for me? Out in the water, I was sure it was the friend type. Brotherly love. Sometimes he treats me like I'm his little brother or something. Like a kid. And even though I blew up at him earlier for calling me that, I usually don't really mind it. Hell, most of the time, I kinda like it. I miss my own brother, and in some ways, I think Bobby's taken Kevin's place for me. It's nice, knowing someone's looking out for you. Watching your back. And Hobbes is a helluva lot better at that, at the bodyguard thing, than Kevin the geek could've ever dreamed of being. 

Hobbes rocks at guarding me.

But the other kind of love -- the kind I want, the kind I need, the kind I finally figured out that I feel for Bobby -- that's not kid stuff. It's more than just affection, and way beyond anything nice, or safe. It's raw and powerful, and it goes deep. Deeper than I ever dreamed. I found that out tonight, at his apartment and down on the beach. I knew I shouldn't do it, shouldn't come on to him, but I just couldn't stop myself. But I still don't know if Hobbes feels anything like that for me.

I'm not even sure if I think it's unlikely because of him, or because of me. Because Hobbes is straight, or because I was crooked in so many ways. I mean, I'm trying to do better now, trying to measure up, be more like the kind of guy Bobby is, but we're still very different. Different enough that the idea of Bobby Hobbes wanting anything more than a casual fuck from me almost seems like a dream. 

I sigh to myself. _Let's face it -- right now, even the casual fuck idea seems like a dream. I'd settle for that, though. For good, old-fashioned, wanna-jump-your-bones kind of lust. For one more hot look like Bobby gave me down on the beach._

I watch him for a long time, hoping I'll get lucky. But Hobbes doesn't blush, or look at me again, or give anything else away. Instead, after a long while, he just smiles a little. Without even taking his eyes off the road, he asks, "What're you lookin' at, Fawkes?" 

__

Damn! He knows I've secretly been ogling him. How the hell did he notice? 

While I'm sitting there, too shocked to say anything, Bobby shakes his head wryly. "Go to sleep, Gland Boy."

I smile to myself, and close my eyes for real this time. _It's amazing. He always_ _knows what I'm up to. Always. _

I must be pretty far gone, 'cause I kinda like that.

Seconds later, I fall asleep.

********************************

I wait for awhile. Maybe a good five minutes, until I'm sure Fawkes is really asleep. _Not just faking it so he can scope me out again, the sneaky bastard._ I smile in spite of myself, and take another look at him. 

His head's back on the seat, his hands are in his lap, and his long legs are sprawled out in front of him. _He looks -- well, relaxed is too mild a word for it._ _He looks like he doesn't have a care in the world._ _For a guy who just tried to kill himself, that's pretty amazing._ I shake my head in reluctant admiration. _Fawkes always looks like that. Long, slinky. Loose. Like he doesn't have one uptight bone in his whole body. Like this big fucking cat or something. I envy that._

Wonder if he's that loose in bed….

I wince. Whip my head around and look back at the road. Tighten my hands on the wheel until they almost hurt. _God dammit! What the fuck's wrong with me? My own partner just tried to kill himself, and here I am, thinking about fucking him!_ _Again. _I feel totally embarrassed. _I oughtta be watching the road, instead of looking at him like that. I already know what he looks like, for Crissake! I've been his partner for months now_. _I know Fawkes inside and out. Head to toe. From his curly little sideburns to his size thirteen feet._

At least, I thought I did. So why didn't I see this coming? The thought's pure pain. _Maybe his looseness, that casual thing he's got going, fooled me. Or maybe I've been too busy secretly drooling over his outsides lately, to look past 'em, at his insides. I forget how different Fawkes and me are, sometimes. He's an overgrown kid in some ways, but that don't make him stupid. Look at all the books he's always reading. How he can quote all those writers and philosophers and stuff. Kid's smart. Got a lot goin' on, under all that hair. Maybe even more than I guessed. Whatever his problem is, he managed to hide it from me, that's for sure. Or was I just too wrapped up in my own problems to spot it?_

Don't know. But either Fawkes fooled me, or I fucked up. Either way, it isn't good. That wasn't just a little mistake, it was a fucking huge one. Bobby Hobbes doesn't like making mistakes. 

I keep the van in the fast lane, and tromp on the gas. I'm already over the limit, but I can't go slow, not when I'm all wound up inside like this. So much happened tonight, I feel like I can hardly take it in. _I feel like it's partly my fault that he ended up half a mile out in the Pacific. Wish this heap o' junk could go faster._ _I just wanna get Fawkes outta here, as far away from the ocean as possible…._

And then what? What am I gonna do about this? About him?

I bite my lip, thinking it over. 

__

I know what I oughtta do. I oughtta report it. The Official said, if Fawkes does anything that could endanger the gland, I'm supposed to report it. In detail, in triplicate. It's my duty. And Fawkes trying to drown the fucking gland about a mile out in the Pacific, well -- that was more than just endangerment. That was attempted gland murder.

I smile a little. But then the smile fades. _I don't wanna report it. Can't even say I blame Fawkes for trying to drown it. That thing in his head -- it's not just poisonous, it's a trap, too. It's got him stuck here, stuck like a bug on a pin, helpless and dependent on the Fat Man. And I know he hates that. It's probably part of the reason he was out there in the water tonight. _

But if I report this, if the Official finds out that Darien was depressed enough, or scared enough, or both, to try to kill himself…. We both know he's on thin ice with the Fat Man anyway. If Fawkes screws up too bad, if he gets to be too much of a pain in the ass, the Official could label him a security risk. Yank that gland outta his head, and put it in somebody else.

Of course, that'd kill Darien. But the Fat Man would do it anyway. I know he would, the rat bastard.

The thought makes me shudder. _So where does that leave me? Out on a limb, as usual._ _Ever since I got partnered up with Fawkes, I feel like I spend half my time out here._ _Trying to hang onto my principles around slippery-slidy Darien. Trying to protect him, but still do what the Boss says. Trying to do the right thing, when sometimes it's almost impossible to tell what that is. This isn't the first time I've had one of these arguments with myself; and if I know Fawkes, it won't be the last, either._

I can feel myself sweating. _Seems like this is all too much. Again. Like it's beyond me. There's so many angles, and I can't figure 'em as easy as I usually do. Dunno why, but I -- can't -- think! Not with Fawkes sitting so close to me…._

Without even meaning to, I find myself looking at him again. My eyes just drift over like they're taking a little moonlight stroll, and before I know it, they're all over him. His long legs, his spiky hair, the smooth skin I can see at the opening of his collar…. Just for a second, I imagine kissing him there. Licking him. Tracing his collar bone with my tongue. Tasting the ocean salt on his skin, tasting _him_ --

Just like that, I'm hot. Getting hard again. _Shit! Quit doin' that! _I tell myself, shifting uncomfortably in my seat_. Quit looking at him! I haveta figure the angles. I gotta! For his sake_. 

I shake my head, pissed off at myself. _No matter how I try, I keep having these horny thoughts about Fawkes. I know what I'm gonna haveta do, to get myself back on track._

Wham! I hit the steering wheel. Hard enough to hurt my hand, but not quite hard enough to break any bones. 

__

Ow! I shake my aching fingers, stifling a gasp so Fawkes won't wake up. _Shit, that hurt! I'll have bruises tomorrow. But it worked._ _I learned that a long time ago: pain's an incredible attention-getter. It'll get you focused, real quick. Works for me, anyway_. My eyes are off my pretty partner now, and back on the road again; and my mind's shifted back to the problem. 

__

Okay. _What I gotta do is simplify this. Break it down, into something I can handle._ _Okay. Seems to me_, _I got two options here. I can do what I'm supposed to, do my duty, and tell the Official what happened -- and risk losing my partner, risk getting him killed, if the Fat Man decides he's too unstable_.

__

Or I can not do that. I can keep my mouth shut. Keep it to myself, and keep Fawkes safe.

Ya look at it that way, it's a no-brainer. It's easy. I already figured out that Darien's more than just my partner, he's like family. So no way am I gonna rat on him. Besides, it won't be the first time I've kept my mouth shut about one of his crazy stunts. I figure, what the Official doesn't know about the wild child, won't hurt Darien.

Okay. That's settled, then. No report.

I feel relieved. I mull it over awhile longer, though. _Have to make sure I didn't miss any of the angles. Gotta be damn sure this is the right thing to do, and that there's no way keeping quiet could back-fire on the kid_. _I know he's probably still unstable, but I figure I'll keep a lid on that by watching over him myself. No way will he get away from me, or try to off himself again, while I'm keeping an eye on him. I'll watch him like a fucking hawk. So he'll be okay. Better off than he'd be if the Fat Man found out what he tried to do tonight, anyway. If the Official knew about that swim -- Jesus. It wouldn't be pretty. Even if he didn't decide to pull the gland out of Fawkes's head, he'd probably throw the kid in the rubber room in a strait jacket, and have some shrink grill him for days. He might even make Claire trank him. In the state Fawkesy's in, that'd send him off the deep end again for sure._

So: no report. No fucking way.

I sigh to myself. _Deep down, I think I already_ _knew I wasn't gonna make one. Knew it before I even got Fawkes out of the water_. _Maybe I should feel bad about that. Disloyal or something. But I don't. _

That kind of surprises me_. I should. So why don't I?_

It's not that I'm not loyal. It's more like s_omewhere along the way, my priorities shifted. My first loyalty isn't to the Fat Man anymore, or even to the Agency. It's to Darien._

I get the feeling, way down deep, that that means something_. Maybe something big. My shrink would probably wanna analyze the hell out of it. _But I just shrug_. I'm not gonna. Right now, I've got bigger headaches_. _If I'm gonna keep quiet about this, I've gotta figure out what to do with Darien. Said I'd take him home with me, but is that really the right thing to do? _

I hit the gas and pass a slow-moving car, thinking it over_. I'd take him to the Keeper, hand the responsibility over to her for once, if I thought she could help him. But this isn't something she can fix. Besides … I like Claire, but she acts like she owns the kid sometimes. Like she owns both of us. Like he's her pet science project, and I'm this frickin' robot or something, built to muscle Darien into her chair and strap him down whenever she wants. Bet if she knew about the little stunt he just pulled, she'd be yelling, "Get him in that chair, Bobby. NOW!" She'd have him tied down in a second. She'd be taking blood samples and skin scrapings and giving him shots 'til his eyeballs popped. But he doesn't need another needle in his arm, or more tests done on his head right now._ _Doesn't need to be treated like a fucking lab rat, tonight of all nights. He's had more than enough of that shit already._

Besides, the thought of turning him over to Claire right now makes me feel … jealous. Just plain jealous._ Things between Fawkes and me changed tonight. Shifted. We're getting closer, and I like it. I want it. I don't want Claire mixing in, and maybe getting between us right now. _

The thing is -- she could. I got no doubts about that. Claire's kinda hard to miss. She's got all that blonde hair, that pouty mouth, that pretty accent -- and I'm not the only one who's noticed. Sometimes, when he forgets to resent her for helping to keep him in line with counteragent, Darien flirts with her. I've seen him do it, and I hate it. I mean, I flirt with her, too; but it's not the same thing. With me, it's just a reflex. A habit. A game. It's fun, but it doesn't mean anything. With him, I'm not sure. And the thought that Darien might really want her -- 

That's pain. Pain mixed with jealousy. _I don't even wanna go there._

Guess I don't really wanna pawn him off on someone else, after all. What I want is to have him all to myself. Problems and all. For the hundredth time, I wonder what it is about this big ex-thief that totally gets to me. 

I glance over at him, sleeping sprawled out next to me, and something inside me softens. Just like that. All I have to do is look at him, and it warms me up. _It's weird. I never expected it. I mean, he's a thief! A criminal. _

But that's not all he is. 

Don't get me wrong, Fawkesy's got his faults. Plenty of 'em. He's lazy. Mouthy. Headstrong. Moody. He can be selfish sometimes, and he spends too much time feeling sorry for himself. Plus, he's a thief. He's robbed a few places, stolen some watches, whatever. He's got sticky fingers, all right. Thinks what's yours is his, too. But that don't make him Jeffrey frigging Dahmer. He's never stolen anything from me; and I don't think he ever would. Even Fawkes's got his limits. Sure, he tries _to act hardened. Tough. Like he's this big, bad ex-con. But I see through that little act. When it comes to people, he's really a softie. _

In fact, far as I can see, he wasn't very good at being a thief because of that. Oh, he's got the brains, all right -- no question. Bet Fawkesy was fantastic at figuring out how to crack a joint, how to get through security systems, or charm your way in. But he doesn't have the coldness, the ruthlessness that ya gotta have to get out, if things go wrong. He wasn't enough of a bastard to save his ass at the expense of everyone else. Christ, he never even carried a gun! And look at how he got caught, that last time. Trying to save some old man he didn't even know. Some old geezer he scared, when he was trying to rob an apartment! That's classic Fawkes.

He can be selfish about things, but from what I've seen, when it comes to people, he's the opposite. 

I'm not sure if he even realizes it, but when it comes down to it, Fawkes tends to puts other people first. I've seen him do it time and time again, while we've been working together. He risked his neck for that kid Jessica recently, and she ain't the only one. I'd be tempted to say that working for the Agency's having a positive effect on him -- but he tried to save that old man while he was still a thief, before he ever got here. So I think his new job is probably just bringing out something that was already there inside him. 

I think Darien's basically a good kid, who just took a wrong turn somewhere. Maybe it happened 'cause he lost his mom and dad when he was little. I dunno. All I know is, he can try all he wants to act selfish, tough and cynical -- but Fawkesy doesn't have the killer instinct. No way. I've been in this business long enough to know. In fact, he's the opposite. As long as he doesn't feel threatened, he's this total bleeding heart. I've watched him with people, and he always wants to fix their problems, always wants to help. Deep down, he's kind. Gentle. Got a good heart. Compared to me, he's a fucking innocent.

For a second, I wonder if that's it. If that's the attraction, what I love about him_ -- his innocence._

I catch myself. _Love? Did I just think the L word?_

That scares me. I shake myself. _That's crazy! Nuts. Love? I mean, I want him, but … I can't love Fawkes. I can't! I mean, we're opposites. I'm hard, he's soft. I'm cold, he's warm. Fawkes just pretends to be cynical -- I am. I'm hardened, in ways he'll never be. I spent most of my life in tough worlds: the military and Intelligence. I'm all nerves, all jagged edges and suspicion. When it comes down to it, I'm a trained killer. I don't enjoy it, but I do it when I have to. Without flinching, or looking away, or worrying about it after, either. Darien could never do that. He freaks out every time he even roughs someone up, when he goes Quicksilver crazy. _

I think that's part of what I like about him. His gentleness. I mean, it doesn't hurt that he's so easy on the eyes. But I've worked with good-looking guys before, and never felt anything like this for any of 'em. I think Fawkes would've gotten to me even if he was plain, though. 'Cause it ain't just the package I like. Ain't just the shiny wrapping. I like that somewhere inside him, under his snot-nosed punk act, there's this wide-eyed kid with an open heart. This kid who likes people, who loves to laugh and tease, and doesn't wanna hurt anybody. I like that kid, and I want him to let me in. I want it so bad, I can taste it.

That's part of the problem. That hunger scares me.

'Cause maybe it's pathetic. Weak. Maybe wanting someone so young and pretty is a sign that I'm cracking up. Going soft in my old age. I dunno. I've been tough all my life -- at least, I've tried to be. But it's been a struggle, and for most of it, I was all alone. I'm starting to feel like I've been alone too long. Like I've been shoved up against the world's hard, rough edges too many times, and I've got the scars to prove it. Outside and inside, too. It's done some damage. Maybe that's part of the reason why I lost Viv, and why I have to see shrinks, and take all these pills. To be strong, to survive, I had to protect myself. Had to turn my heart to stone, at least on the outside. I had to keep people at a distance. But I did it for so long, I almost forgot how to let anyone in. I'm starting to go cold on the inside, too. So cold, I'm turning into a fucking icicle. Maybe Darien could melt all that ice.

Maybe I even need him to. 

Now, there's a scary thought. But I already trust him more than I've trusted anyone except my ex-wife; and it's a short step from trust to total surrender. I know that. It scares me though, 'cause this world's a tough place for innocents like Darien. _He's smart and he's strong, but he's still learning. In the spy game, he's still a "babe in the woods"; and our business tends to chew babes up and spit 'em out. Sometimes, it even kills 'em._

I look over at Fawkes's messy, spiky hair, and I feel a stab of fear. Not for the first time. I think, _That's not gonna happen to him. I won't let it. _But that just leads me back to my original problem._ How do I take care of him? How do I fix what's ailing Mr. Innocent tonight? _

First, I've gotta figure Fawkes out. Try to decide why he went off the deep end tonight. He said he was scared. Scared of what? Scared of what he is now? Scared of his demon? Could be. It's tempting to think that's the answer, but I can't be sure. Fawkesy's got a good heart, but he's got his dark side, too. Maybe there's something else going on with him. Maybe he's mixed up in something bad that I don't know about, something that's got nothing to do with the Agency. It wouldn't be the first time he's strayed, and gotten in over his head for it. Maybe that's what he's afraid of.

But there's no way to know for sure unless I wake him up; and I don't wanna do that. 

So I think back some more. Back to when he came to my apartment, back before he decided to go swimming_. He kept saying he wanted us to spend more time together. He said that over and over. Once I realized he was making a pass at me, I wrote that off as just a line. But maybe I was wrong, and he meant it. Maybe that's why he's been calling me so much lately. I never thought about it before, but since he started working for the Agency, he's been cut off from all his old friends, all his sticky-fingered former pals. Could be what he needs is some attention. Maybe part of Fawkesy's problem is, he's really lonely._

I shrug. _It's an idea, anyway. Something to work on._ _Maybe when he came to my place earlier, what he really wanted was just someone to talk to. I mean, he did hit on me, but maybe that was 'cause he didn't know how to tell me that he just needed_ _someone to give a damn about Darien Fawkes for a change, and not that goddamn gland in his head. But I panicked and threw him out, instead._

The memory of that makes me wince. _Okay, so I was a jerk. I was stupid, I didn't get what he was trying to tell me. I'll make up for it now._ _I'll take Fawkes home. Dry him off. Talk to him. Try to find out what's scaring him so bad, and what he needs to make him feel better. Try to get him back on some kind of an even keel again. _

Now, that's ironic. Me, trying to play shrink for Fawkes. _Me, Lithium Bob, trying to cheer him up. Christ._

Still, what other choice do I have? Right now, I'm all he's got.

I look over at him, feel that softness inside again and think, _And maybe that's not so bad. Maybe that's just how I want it._

****************************

I fall asleep. But then I start to dream; and in my dream, I'm cold. So cold I'm shivering. It's dark, and I'm scared. I'm in prison again. I'm alone. Trapped in my tiny, dingy little cell. No hope, no light, no way out. I reach out for comfort, for someone to help me. And I find someone. A warm body, a broad shoulder. _Oh, thank God. I'm not alone after all._ I get next to that shoulder. Lean into it. Press myself up against it. _Whoever he is, he feels good. He's warm, solid and strong. _Best of all, he doesn't move. So I lay my tired, heavy head down on his shoulder. Wrap my cold body around his.

__

Better, I think. _Warm._ _Safe_. My fear fades away, and so do the walls of my cell. I go back to sleep.

*****************************

Darien makes this funny sound, deep in his throat. This muffled kind of moan, that I don't like. I look over at him. He's still asleep, but he doesn't look relaxed anymore. He's frowning, and his hands twitch. _Bad dreams_, I think. _Not surprising, considering what he just did_. Still, the idea of Fawkes having nightmares bothers me. _I have 'em a lot, but he shouldn't. He's got enough to deal with when he's awake. He doesn't need his troubles following him into his dreams_.

"Hey, Fawkes," I say softly. "You okay?"

He stirs a little. Tosses his head, and reaches out in his sleep. When he touches my arm, he turns toward me blindly, and mutters something I can't hear. Next thing I know, his head's on my shoulder. I stiffen in surprise. _Oh geez_.

"Fawkes!" I hiss.

But he just gets closer. He moves his head, burrowing it into my neck, so he's kind of draped over my right side. His weight pulls my right hand off the wheel, and when I let that arm drop, he wraps his arm around it and cuddles even closer. His free hand drops onto my right leg. Then he lets out this contented little sigh, and relaxes. 

__

Fuck! If I thought this was a joke, another one of his outrageous ways of teasing me, I'd smack him. But I know he's asleep, and that he's just getting comfortable. I'm not, though. I'm anything but. I don't usually let people get this close. And having Darien Fawkes draped all over me, feeling every loose, sleepy inch of him that's touching me -- it's like torture. I can feel his breath, warm on my neck. His hands, warm on my arm and thigh.

"Fawkes, come on!" I plead. 

Fawkes sighs again. Another soft, happy sigh. But he doesn't move. 

__

It's obvious, he likes it here. Aw, shit! I roll my eyes. _I could get rid of him, of course. Push him off, or even wake him up._ I think about it. _But after what he's been through, he's gotta be exhausted. He needs to sleep._

I think about what his dreams must be like, and the way he swam out to sea tonight. How close I came to losing him, to never seeing him again. I think about how rotten my life was, before he came into it. I remember how I just promised myself I'd give him whatever he needs, to get him through this; and how I want some warmth in my life. 

__

Darien's warm, all right. _Inside and out_.

I think about all that, and decide not to push him away. "Okay, partner," I say gently instead. "Okay." _If this is what you need_….

But that's just an excuse_. Maybe, just maybe, I need it too_. So I try to relax. Stop thinking of it like it's torture, and enjoy being so close to Darien, instead. _After all, it could be worse._ _He could've done this at the lab. With Claire, instead of me. _

That definitely makes me feel better. _Come to think of it, I kinda have the best of both worlds, here. Darien's all snuggled up to me, but he's asleep. And what he doesn't know about, he can't tease me about when he wakes up. _That makes me smile. 

__

At least he isn't hanging onto my left arm. At least I can still drive. So I do that. I let him sleep on my shoulder, and I just keep driving.

When we get back to my place, Darien's still curled up beside me, hanging onto my arm, with his head on my shoulder. _He looks really young and innocent, asleep_. But I don't feel that way, with his body all soft and warm and pressed up against me. I feel kind of weird as I pull up and park. I'm really, really tired, but I'm excited, too. Aroused. It's hard not to be. _I mean, we already kissed down on the beach, then he curled up next to me, and now we're back at my place, where we'll really be alone_. 

I feel a guilty little thrill, at the thought of that. _Company pier_, I tell myself severely. _Bobby Hobbes does **not** fish off the company pier!_

But even that doesn't help. All I get is this mental image of Darien, diving off of the company pier. Long, lean, sleek and naked, like he was on the beach. I sigh to myself. _Almost wish I hadn't seen him naked. Now it's all I can think about_. 

__

Anyway, that ain't gonna happen again tonight. Nothing's gonna happen, I tell myself for the tenth time, as I shut the engine off quietly. _He's worn out. Trashed. So am I. We both need to rest, so I'm just gonna put him to bed._

Problem is, the idea of laying Darien's big, sleepy body in my bed does things to me, too. Hot, exciting things. _Pervert,_ I tell myself, but there it is_. _Just thinking about him in my bed makes me harden. _It's not like I wanna take advantage of him. I don't._ _I'm gonna take care of him. But along with affection and protectiveness, I feel other things for him now, too. Sexual things, that complicate everything._

I heave a sigh, turn my head and look at Fawkes. I see tousled brown hair, the curve of his cheek, and the hint of a smile. _He looks happy. It'd be nice to think that snuggling up to me drove his nightmares away._ _Maybe it did._ _He's all warm and comfortable now, anyway. Hasn't made a sound since he pressed up against me, either_. _I kinda hate to wake him up._

In fact, it hits me that what I want to do, what I'd really like to do while he's all soft and sleepy like this, is kiss him again. 

But that'd be cowardly. Taking advantage, and I know it. _I'm not gonna pounce him while he's asleep. Besides, there's the whole company pier thing…._ _Aww, what the hell. Fuck the company! I saved his life tonight. So the company owes me one. Maybe I can't kiss him, but I deserve just one teeny, tiny little cast off of the Agency's pier._

So I let myself reach over and touch him. I ruffle his hair gently. It feels a bit stiff with salt, and it sticks up in tufts, making me smile. "Rise and shine, Invisible Boy," I say quietly. "We're home."

Fawkes lets go of me and sits up, blinking and rubbing his eyes. "I fell asleep." 

"No kiddin', Fawkesy." _Wonder if he even knows he snuggled up to me in his sleep? Probably better if he doesn't. _So I don't say anything.

Darien yawns hugely. Runs a hand through his hair, and messes it up even more than it already was. _With his hair sticking up like that, and those sleepy eyes, he looks like a kid. All rumpled and cute. I know better than to tell him that, though. Don't want him to get pissed at me again. _

But I must've smiled without knowing it, because Darien smiles back at me with this curious look. "What?"

I get that urge again. Another surge of temptation. _He looks so open, so warm and sleepy and unguarded that I wanna grab him and kiss the hell out of him, before he can stop me. But I know I can't do that. He needs help, not another kiss. _I swallow hard. _Get a grip, Bobby, or this is gonna be a helluva long night! _

I just shake my head in response. "Nothin'. Let's go." I turn to open my door, but Darien catches my arm.

"You're sure this is okay, Bobby? I mean --"

I know just what he means. No need to explain. One little touch, and I know. When I turn back to face him, I get this sudden, heated awareness of his hand on my arm. I feel how close we are, and how quiet it is out here. There's no one else around, and I think how no one would see us in the dark, if I kissed him again. Worse, I see that awareness in Darien's eyes, too. _Even though he just woke up, it's there. The same hunger I feel. He wants me too. Even now, when we're both so tired we're half dead, we still want it. Not just another kiss, but all of it. The whole enchilada. Sex._

That's why he's asking me if it's okay if he stays. 'Cause he's not sure what might happen.

I hesitate, because I'm not sure either_. It's not gonna be so easy, having Darien in my apartment now_. _I'm almost sorry I gave in and kissed him on the beach, too._ _It was easier when he didn't know that I want him. At least I was only fighting myself, then. Now I've gotta hold him off, too. At least, my conscience tells me I should. It's way too soon. If it's ever gonna happen at all, now's not the right time. Darien's still shook up, still depressed. He's vulnerable. Not thinking straight. So I gotta be the grown-up here. Gotta take care of him._

"Sure, it's okay," I lie. I already thought this part out, while he was sleeping. But I do my best to sound casual. "We both need some shut-eye, so you can take my bed. I'll crash on the couch." I just hope Fawkesy doesn't figure out that's a plan I devised, to keep us separated. Keep us apart. _That way, if we're in separate rooms, there won't be any fishing, off the company pier or otherwise. Not in my apartment anyway. Not tonight_.

Darien lets me go. Looks away, down at the floor, and nods. "Okay." At first, I think he's disappointed about the sleeping arrangements. I think maybe he's going to try to argue with me, and I tense up. But to my surprise, when he raises his head, he gives me that same crooked little smile he gave me down on the beach, instead. "Thanks, man," he says. 

__

Like he's grateful that I didn't just take him back to his apartment and leave him. Like he's glad just to be with me, even if nothing's gonna happen. That should be a relief. Instead, it only makes me wanna have sex with him even more. _Pervert_, I sigh to myself again.

But all I say out loud is, "Sure. No problem." _Lucky for me, I'm a pretty good liar_.

Darien climbs out of the van. He's not moving very fast, though, and it reminds me that I'm tired, too. I look at my watch -- it's 2 a.m. _No wonder. _I reach over to open my door, and sand grates against the vinyl under my fingers. I wiggle my toes. _Crap. I've got sand in my shoes, too. Probably all over me. I need a shower_. _But if I have one, Darien'll probably wanna take one, too. And I don't even wanna think about what it'll do to me, if he gets naked again in my shower. I've already had enough temptation for one night. More than enough_. 

__

But it's not over yet. I've still got this big problem child with me, who I gotta watch over. This sexy ex-thief who keeps making me think stuff I shouldn't be thinking.

__

Okay, no shower, I tell myself sourly. _I'll just go straight to bed. _

I'm not sure who I distrust more: Fawkes, or myself. I climb down out of the van and trail after him, feeling tense and excited, and hating myself for it. _Welcome to my world. Planet Hobbes, where everything is whacked, and you can't trust anyone. Including your partner. Or even yourself. Not when it comes to sex, anyway._

************************

I head up Bobby's stairs. I feel tired, but better. Lighter inside. A lot lighter. Still kind of stunned by what happened tonight, though. Still thinking about it. _My swim, and the way Bobby came after me, and even let me cry on his shoulder. All of it. _

Thinking about my swim isn't much fun, though. It takes me back to this dark place in my head, where everything seemed hopeless. Where I was lost. So I think about Bobby instead. _He did more than just save me. He took care of me. Even when I totally lost it, he didn't laugh_, I think, with a sense of wonder. _Most guys hate it when other guys cry. They'd've either laughed their heads off at me, called me a wuss, or told me to shut up. But Bobby was wonderful. He just held me, and said it'd be all right. _

I turn that over in my head for awhile. Savor it. _I mean -- the toughest guy I know, the toughest one I've ever known, cares so much about me that even seeing me cry didn't freak him out_. _He does love me, _I think, feeling warmed. _He must_…. _When he said it'd be all right, he made it sound like a promise. And having his arms around me felt so good, so right, it was amazing. But it didn't end there. He brought me back here to his place, instead of taking me back to my apartment. Hell, I think he even let me sleep on his shoulder in the van, on the way. _

I think this is Bobby's way of keeping that promise. 

He kissed me, too. My mind keeps coming back to that. I can't get over it. _Whatever his reasons were for it, that kiss was amazing._ Then doubt cuts through me. Through my happy, tired little haze. _But he said he's gonna sleep on the couch_. _So maybe he's already regretting it. _

This sarcastic voice in my head cuts in. _Well_, _I can think of a few reasons why he would_. _One in particular._ _With a capital P, and that rhymes with T, and that stands for "Prison!" _

I sigh to myself._ That's not a subject I like to think a lot about anymore -- my prison terms. But that's part of me, much as I'd like to deny it. It marked me, as surely as the snake tattoo on my wrist. I'm the only one at the Agency who did time, and it sets me apart from Bobby and everyone else there._

Still…. Buddha once said, "People cherish the distinction of purity and impurity. But in the nature of things, there is no such distinction."

I think he was trying to say that life's a messy business. It's got a lotta dark stuff, mixed in with the light. But if ya wanna really love life, or other people, you have to embrace all of that. Light and dark, neat and messy, pure and impure. And once you see the whole picture, you see it's all really just one thing: it's life. Ever see a view of the earth from space? From up there, you can't see any national borders on the continents. No England, Germany, France or even the good ole U.S. of A. You can't see any of the artificial boundaries we draw on maps, and fight wars over. Because those boundaries, those borders, are just something we make up. They're artificial distinctions, that don't really exist.

That's the gift of perspective. It makes some things really clear. What's important -- what's real -- and what isn't.

But most people don't see it that way. They don't have that kind of take on life. Buddha was a lot more enlightened than your average Joe, and I think he really hit the nail on the head there: most people like making artificial distinctions. Especially the moral kind. They like it a **lot**. Look at the way English is constructed: almost every positive adjective has a matching negative. Pure, impure. Mature, immature. Moral, immoral. You get the picture. People like to label. They like to judge. But most of all, if you step out of line or violate the rules, they like to punish. They'll put you in that negative category so fast, your head'll spin.

I should know. I started coloring outside of the lines and breaking the rules when I was pretty young. Now I'm not just a thief, but I also served time in prison. Everyone knows what happens in there, and it's got nothing to do with purity. So in the eyes of most people, I'm not just in that negative, "impure" category now -- I'm in slime up to my eyeballs.

What I wanna know is, what does that mean to Bobby Hobbes? What does that make me in his eyes? A slimeball? A slut? Did he put me in the "impure" category a long time ago? And was that kiss just a kind of bribe, to make me feel better? Or is he gonna think outside the box? Take the enlightened view, and accept me in spite of my past? See me as a man, and not a slut?

Is he ever gonna kiss me again?

Tired as I am, I'm full of questions. As we trudge up his stairs and Hobbes digs out his apartment key, I think, _Maybe tonight, I'll get some answers._

*********************************

I try to hide a yawn while I open my apartment door. _Don't want Fawkes to see how tired I am, in case he wants to stay up and talk for awhile. If he does, I'll do it. Because more than anything else, I want him to tell me what made him do it. Why he went half a mile out into the frickin' ocean tonight. _

But to my surprise, once we get inside, Darien throws himself down on my couch right away. He yawns like he's so tired, all he wants to do is sleep. _But I'm not sure if he's just using that as an excuse to avoid talking to me. Get the feeling he's not ready yet. Not ready to tell me._ It worries me. _How long is it gonna take, before he opens up?_

"Look, Hobbes," he says, "you're doing me a favor, letting me stay here. I can't let you give away your bed, too. You take the bed. I'll crash here, on the couch. Then I won't have to move." He yawns elaborately again, to show how tired he is.

__

Typical Fawkes. Thinking of me first, but trying to cover up the fact that he's doing it. _But I see through that little ploy._ _Can't let him think I'm that easy to manipulate_. "What, are you tryin' to make me look bad here, Fawkes? You're my guest, and guests don't sleep on the couch. Not in Chez Hobbes."

Fawkes widens his eyes in mock surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I was in your apartment. Didn't realize this was some sort of French hotel." 

I try not to smile. "Well, now you know."

But Fawkes isn't through arguing yet. He shrugs casually. "I'm just saying, you should take the bed. After all, like you pointed out earlier, you're older than me. And older people get tired easier --"

He's trying to look serious, but he can't quite keep this little smirk off his face. _That's classic Fawkes, too. He's trying to help me, but he can't resist teasing me about my age, at the same time._ _And it's just like him, to try to use my own words against me._ No way can I let him get away with that, so I fire one back at him. "Hey, hey! You're the one who fell asleep in the van on the way back here, my friend. Not me! So who's the decrepit one, huh?"

Fawkes pretends to consider that. "You know, you're right. Not only did I drag you out into the ocean in the middle of the night, but I even took a snooze while you drove us back here." He looks down and puts on this totally fake look of guilt. "That was really, you know, selfish and inconsiderate of me."

He's putting on such a performance, I can't resist cutting in. "You? Selfish and inconsiderate? Never!"

I can see Fawkes is trying not to smile, too. "No, I was. I really was! I was this total, selfish bastard," he confesses, trying hard to look guilty. Head down, he sneaks a sideways glance at me, to see if I'm buying it yet. "So you should probably punish me, and make me sleep on the couch."

I shake my head. "Oh, no." But inside, I'm smiling. Watching Fawkes pretend to look guilty like that is hysterical.

__

This kind of teasing, this little war of words that he loves so much -- it just shows what a kid he is. Give Fawkes a chance, any chance to play, and he can't resist. Thing is, though, he's not the only one who loves it. I'd never tell him, but I do, too. So I play along, like I always do. "Listen, if I wanted to punish you, I'd make you sleep on the floor. Wouldja' just do like I said, and take the bed, please? You're too tall to fit on the couch, anyways!"

"Oh yeah? Watch this." Fawkes lies back on my couch, stretching his long legs out. To my surprise, he does fit, after all. Just. He gives me this smug smile, like he knew it all along. "You've got a big couch here, buddy. I'm fine. See?"

__

Smart ass. _He probably knew he'd fit there all along, before he ever started this argument. He was just saving that bit, so he'd win. I hate it when he wins_. "Yeah, but --"

He pulls a pillow behind his head, lays back on it and closes his eyes. "No buts. This is fine, Hobbesy," he says with a little smile. "It's good."

I eyeball him for a minute. _Gotta admit, though, he does look comfortable_. _And my bed sounds awful good right now, too._ _So if he doesn't wanna talk it out yet, I'd just as soon crash. _"Okay," I tell him. 

__

I'll let him win this one, 'cause if he doesn't tell me what the hell made him want to kill himself, we're gonna have a much bigger fight on our hands, later. _If he doesn't open up soon, I'll have to force him to talk. Don't wanna, but I will if I have to._

__

That's one thing I'm good at: doing what has to be done. 

But I'm hoping it won't happen. That he won't make me pry it out of him. _Anyway, we should both get some sleep first, before we start World War III_. So I just say quietly, "Okay. If you wanna stay there, I'll get ya a blanket."

I grab one out of my bedroom closet, come back in and look down at him. For a second, I have this silly urge to spread the blanket over him myself. Kind of tuck him in. But I'm not sure, at this point, if that's real concern or lust. _Do I just wanna tuck him in here, or am I looking for an excuse to touch him again?_ _Am I trying to be Mr. Mom, or Mr. Molester? _

I'm not sure. But I know it's safer -- smarter -- not to touch him again. Besides, Fawkes usually hates it if I hover. So I restrain myself, and toss him the blanket instead.

But then I hear myself say, "You should get outta those clothes, Fawkes. They're all salty and damp." _Okay, so much for not hovering. I'm starting to sound like his mother!_ _No -- I sound stupid. 'Cause what's he gonna change into? It's not like I've got an extra set of pajamas he can borrow._ _He's way too tall. None of my stuff would fit him. _

I halfway expect Darien to point that out. But to my surprise, he agrees with me. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'll just get rid o' this…." Before I can stop him, he sits up and pulls his damp T-shirt over his head. In seconds, he's half naked again. I swallow hard. _Aw, crap! Seeing that gorgeous chest twice in one night is almost too much. I'm really tired, and my resistance is going._ I remember how good it felt, having him in my arms on the beach, and it's all I can do not to reach out and touch him.

Then a worse thought hits me. _Oh geez. What if he doesn't stop there? What if he decides to take it all off? I couldn't stand that. He loses his jeans, and I'll lose control._ So I grab his shirt, and turn away quickly. "I'll hang this up for ya," I mutter, not looking at him. "Sure you're gonna be okay here, Fawkes?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go on, Hobbes. Go to sleep."

Any other time, I'd've done that without a second thought. Taken his word for it that he's okay, and hit the sheets. But there's something in his voice now, a hint of something like disappointment that makes me pause_. I almost lost him once tonight -- I don't wanna make another mistake_. So I stop at my bedroom door, and throw one last little glance at him over my shoulder. He's lying down, his head on a pillow, the blanket over his legs, his eyes half closed. _He looks tousled and tired. Like he's gonna go to sleep the second I leave the room. But I don't trust him. Appearances can be deceiving, and so can Fawkes. _

For my own peace of mind, I decide to make him promise to stay put this time. "Okay. You can sleep in as late as ya want tomorrow. Then I'll make us breakfast. But no taking off again, all right?" _We'll talk, Fawkes. Talk it all out in the morning. But you better be here._

He sits up a little, turns to look at me, and like he read my mind, he says, "Okay. I'll be here. Thanks, Bobby."

I search his eyes. He looks tired, but he's smiling a little, and I can tell he means it. _He's not lying to me. He's not gonna leave again. Okay._

"Sure." I turn away again, more than a little tired myself. But relieved. Very relieved.

But Fawkes calls after me. "Hey, Hobbesy. You know how to make cinnamon toast?" 

I smile at the note of hope in his voice. _If that don't beat all. After everything that happened tonight, all the six-foot-three problem child can think about is his stomach! And he wants cinnamon toast for breakfast! Like a little kid. Geez. Surprised he didn't ask for Captain Crunch. _But he promised not to leave, so I cut him some slack. Turn around again and nod. "Yeah. It's cinnamon on bread, right?" I shrug. "How hard can it be?"

I see this little glint in Darien's eyes, and think, _Uh oh! That was the wrong thing to say. I've been set up!_ But it's too late. I walked right into it.

"Well, ya see now, there's where you're wrong," Fawkes answers softly. "Ya gotta use a bit of sugar, too." He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "Mmm, yeah. Sugar," he purrs. "Ya gotta use lots of that." 

I stiffen. _Seems like Darien's not too tired to talk, after all. Long as it's about sex, anyway. Jesus fucking Christ! It's not enough that he's lying there all sexy and half naked, he's gotta show some tongue, too! _

Darien smiles, and his tongue does another lazy, sensual swipe, back and forth over his lower lip. It looks casual, like he's just wetting dry lips, but I know better. He's playing me, and it's working. It sends a thrill right straight to my dick.Suddenly, all I can think about is how full his lower lip is_. _I wanna lick it, kiss it, sink my teeth into it…. _Like he knew I would, the bastard!_

Our eyes lock. Darien's are sparkling with mischief, and something else I don't wanna think about. _I know I should turn around and leave. Just get myself the hell out of here. Away from his big brown eyes, his tempting tongue, and his goddamn flirting_. But somehow, I can't turn away. I find myself answering him instead. Flirting right back. "Oh, so that's the secret ingredient, huh? Sugar?"

"Oh yeah," Darien says huskily. "You know -- the white stuff."

__

Oh, fuck!

Darien gives me this slow grin, and all of a sudden, he doesn't look just mischievous anymore. He looks wicked. Wanton. _And he's not talking about sugar anymore either, the suggestive bastard. Dirty little Darien…_ My head spins. 

Darien's smile deepens into something like an erotic promise. That smile says he's naked under that blanket, naked and ready for me, and that he's just waiting for me to come and tear it off him, so we can get the party started. I find myself hoping that it'll accidentally slip down past his waist, so I can find out if it's true at a safe distance. _Then again, when he looks at me like that, no amount of distance is safe. When he does that, all I wanna do is close the distance. Get next to him_. 

I feel hypnotized. Like I'm drugged or something. All I can see is his tongue, his lips, his bare chest. The erotic glitter in his eyes. The open invitation in his suggestive smile. I actually feel myself take a step towards him. I have to shake myself and blink my eyes, to break the spell. 

Whoo. Just in time. I feel a flash of resentment, at the way he's playing with me. I mutter, "Knock it off, you little snake charmer!" 

"What?"

"Nothing! Never mind." I do my best to get pissed off at him, to try to snap myself out of it_. _It's not that hard. After all, he's been teasing me mercilessly. _Fawkes, you bastard! Lying there with your perfect chest and your come-fuck-me eyes. Smiling at me. Flirting. Licking your lips, and talking about sugar. I know just the kind of sugar I'd like to give you, too. _

For a second, I almost do it. I'm so damn tired I can hardly see straight, but the surge of annoyance I feel at his shameless teasing almost overcomes that. I almost walk over to that couch and throw myself on him. _I want to. Wanna find out how it feels, doing it with a guy. No -- doing it with Darien. Wanna find out if the rest of it would feel as good as his kiss did. Besides … it'd serve him right, for making those sexy yummy sounds. For all that talk about sugar and white stuff. And for the tongue thing, too._

But just in the nick of time, I remember that I'm not exactly an expert at throwing myself on guys. And I'm way too tired to risk getting laughed at by Invisible Boy. _If he did that, I might have to kill him. And that'd be a shame, since I just finished saving his ass. _

So in the end, all I say is, "Night, Fawkes." I grab his damp shirt, and turn and head for my bedroom, fast. Before he can say anything else. Before he can try anything else. Before he gets another chance to use that tongue….

"Night, Hobbesy!"

This time, Fawkes doesn't sound disappointed. _He sounds almost smug. Like he's smirking_. _Like he knows how much I want him, and that it's only a matter of time before I give in. _That burns me. "I'll get ya for that, Fawkes!" I mutter to myself."You better go to sleep fast, my friend."

I head for bed, thinking I'd better not hear one more peep outta him, or I'll go back out there and put him to sleep the hard way, with my fist.

Luckily for him, it doesn't come to that. Darien shuts up, and I go back in my room and change. And by the time I go to hang his damp shirt up in my shower, I've cooled off a bit. _Guess it's not really fair for me to be so pissed off at him, when Fawkes isn't the only one who got a bit outta line tonight._ _I watched him strip on the beach, after all_. _I didn't mean to. Didn't know he was gonna do that…. But I could've looked away, and I didn't. I watched him for a long time._

I get this uneasy feeling. _There's a lot of things I didn't do tonight, that maybe I should've. I didn't pick up on how upset Darien was, when he came over before. Didn't go after him soon enough, when he waded out into the ocean. Didn't tell the Fat Man that he tried to kill himself tonight, and I didn't take Darien back to his place after, either. I brought him home, instead._

It's a long list of mistakes. But I'm starting to think that not taking Darien back to his apartment was probably the biggest one on it. I can't find it in me to regret it, though, because I promised myself I'd give him whatever he needs. _And I think he needs to be with someone now. _

But what about me? What about what I need? It jolts me a bit, when I realize how little I even think about that anymore. _I've gotten so used to putting Fawkes first -- thinking about his needs before mine_… _I wonder if it's gone too far. I wonder if this thing, this thing between me and him that I can't put a name to, is already throwing me off. Affecting my judgment. Am I losing my edge? I can't afford that. We can't afford that. I'm supposed to be a professional. Supposed to stay detached, objective, so I can protect him. Fawkesy's smart, but he's still just a kid. A beginner. He's not experienced enough yet to protect himself anywhere near as well as I can._

But if this goes where I think it's going -- if I get all starry-eyed about him…. If I let him in, start needing him…. Where's it gonna lead? What's it gonna do to both of us?

I close my eyes. _I don't know. Right now, I don't even wanna know. I gotta take this one step at a time. If I start worrying about myself, on top of what Fawkes did tonight, I'll get so wound up, I won't even be able to close my eyes. And I'm so tired, all I wanna do is sleep_. _For about a hundred years._

So I hang up Darien's shirt, turn off all the questions, and head for bed. 

************************************

After I crash on his couch, Hobbes goes to get me a blanket. When he comes back with it, he stands over me with this oddly gentle look on his face. _Like he's considering laying it over me himself. Wrapping it all around me. Wonder what he's feeling?_ _Is it that kid brother thing again? Does he wanna tuck me in or something? Or is it --_

I hold my breath, but nothing happens. Either I just imagined that look, or it was just protectiveness, because Hobbes doesn't even touch me. He just tosses me the blanket, and tells me gruffly that I should get out of my wet clothes. 

__

Oh, well. Still, I don't give up. _'Cause that whole getting out of my clothes thing, hmm. Now, there's an idea that has possibilities._

Hobbes has already seen me naked, but I can't resist teasing him again. Especially since it seems to turn him on when nothing else will. So I sit up, acting casual, and whip off my shirt in record time. Bare my chest, such as it is. _I've always wished I looked more like Hobbes. Solid and muscular, rather than skinny. I work out, but I never could bulk up much. But hey, some guys like skinny. I just haveta hope he does. _

I smile, and wait for his reaction.

I know I shouldn't do this, 'cause Hobbes is tired. Worn out. His defenses are down, and here I am, flirting. Stripping for him. _Teasing him again, after I promised myself I wouldn't do that any more tonight. But the thing is -- that kiss. Mmm. I'm only human, and I can't get that kiss outta my head. I want more, but he's resisting, and maybe the only way I'm gonna get him to do it again is if I push._

Much to my disappointment, though, Hobbes doesn't respond to my little strip tease_. _

In fact, he turns away fast, like I'm grotesque. Like I have hideous, weeping sores all over my body or something. He asks me if I'm comfortable on his couch and makes me promise I won't run away again, but then he heads for his bedroom. Alone. Without asking me to come, too. 

Damn it! _So much for stripping. Imagine my disappointment._ _Here I thought one more sight of my gorgeous, naked body would render Bobby helpless with lust! Make him putty in my hot little hands. Et cetera, et cetera. Instead, he's heading for the hills. I feel like the fucking Elephant Man! "Am I repulsive? Do I disgust you?"_

I flop back down on the couch with a sigh.

__

Oh, well. It's partly my fault. I did insist on sleeping on the couch, after all. What an idiot! I should've tried to worm my way into his bed instead. He's worried about me, and I could've played on that. Could've said that I'm afraid to sleep alone, after what I just did tonight. I should've thought of some excuse to get in there with him -- but I didn't. 

I shrug_. I must be slipping. But damn, I hate to lose._

So before Hobbes disappears down the hall, I make one last stab at seducing him. I call out to him. Force him to stop. When he turns around, I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head. I ask him if he'll make me cinnamon toast for breakfast. _Not that I'm dying for it or anything. It's just something to say, to keep him from leaving. Something to get him to turn and look at me again. _I run my tongue over my lip and tease him about putting sugar on the toast, while I give him a sexy smile. _I know he'll get what I mean, 'cause Bobby's a born flirt. Hell, he's better at it than I am._

He gets it, all right. For a second, Bobby stands stock still. His light brown eyes widen with this look of surprised hunger. It's the same look I saw on the beach, and it makes my heart beat faster. Tired as I am, other parts of me stir, too. 

__

Then, wonder of wonders -- he starts flirting back. Bobby asks me about sugar, and his voice is a bit husky around the edges. _And he's staring at me, like he can't look away. Okay! Yes! It's working!_ I feel this little thrill. _Another second, and I'll get up off the couch. Go to him and --_

And nothing. Because Hobbes blinks it away. Literally. One blink, and that little flame in his eyes disappears like it was never there. Before I can get up and do anything about it, he turns on his heel and disappears into his bedroom. "Night, Fawkes."

I just sit there, speechless with surprise and disappointment. _Dammit!_ _How does he do that? Turn it on and off like a light, like that? Must be all that discipline he learned in the military or something. _

I settle back down on the couch with a grimace. "G'night, Hobbesy!" I try to sound cheerful, but I don't feel that way. Unlike Hobbes, I can't turn my feelings off that fast. 

I stare down the hall, frustrated_. That's the second time he's turned me down -- or is it the third? Anyway, the point is, why's he being so goddamn stubborn? Was I right, does he think he's protecting me? Or does he think I'm not good enough for him? There's no way to tell. _

So I settle back down on the couch, and flick off the light. I'm tired, but I feel tense. Stiff. In more ways than one. I look down and see a boner poking up under my zipper. I roll my eyes, knowing what caused it. _All that blabbering about sugar. I was just trying to turn Bobby on, but it got me all hot and bothered, too_. _Just thinking about him with sugar on his lips…. Oh, God._

I shouldn't think about that. It makes me squirm on the couch, makes my already stiff dick start to throb. _Forget it_! I tell it sourly. _You're not getting any_! I thump my pillow, totally frustrated by the way my little seduction plan just blew up in my face. _It's too late for sugar now. Too late for any hope of sugar of any kind, because Bobby's gone back into his room_. 

__

He left me all alone out here. Great! Now it's just me and my horny thoughts and my disappointed dick. 

It crosses my mind that I could maybe do something about that. Make at least one of my problems go away, so I can settle down and sleep. But I decide against taking care of that one right now. _There's no way, I mean no way I'm gonna do anything about that, with Bobby and his bat ears lying just a few feet away in his bedroom!_ _It's bad enough that he saw me crying. That's all I need, for Bobby to hear me moaning and breathing hard, and come out and catch me jerking off on his couch, too, like some horny little teenager_. _Huh unh._

But I wish I could._ I want him so bad, I wish to hell I could do something about it. _I twist around again, trying in vain to get comfortable. But my groin's still aching. I close my eyes and mutter under my breath, "I can't get no-oh, sa-tis-fac-shun…"

For a second, I laugh. But the laugh turns into a groan. _It ain't funny. _

Damn Hobbes. Damn sugar. Damn sex!

It isn't the first time I've cursed sex, lately. It probably won't be the last, either. I've been frustrated so often in the past year, it's getting monotonous. Like a really, really bad habit. So I try to force my mind away from it. But when I do, dark memories of what I did earlier tonight rush back in to fill it up instead. I remember how cold the water was. How it seemed like my only way out was death….

__

I thought Kevin was calling me to join him, I think, and I shiver.

I turn over on Bobby's couch again, troubled. Restless. Now I really wish I'd found some way to get myself into his bed. _I don't wanna sleep, 'cause I had some kind of bad dream in the van before, and I'm afraid it'll happen again; and this time, I won't have Bobby's warm shoulder to lean on, either. Lying out here alone in the dark like this sucks. It's kinda creepy_. 

Now that Bobby's turned me down again, all the bad feelings that drove me out into the ocean start to come back.I feel worthless. Dangerous. Lonely.I know Bobby's in the next room, but emotionally, it feels like he's miles away. It washes over me again, the need to tell him why I did it. That I did it for him….

But then I remember the fear on his face, in his eyes, when I even hinted at that. It scares me. Because I'm back now, trapped in this life with my demon and all my fears, because of Bobby. _I did it for him._ _But if he can't even stand to hear about it, then how is he ever gonna be able to help me with it?_

And if he doesn't help me, what the hell am I gonna do?

My heart starts to pound. I have to close my eyes tight for a minute, and take deep breaths, to make the panic fade. _I feel like I'm the only person in the whole frigging world. _I stare up at the ceiling. _I feel invisible. Again._

Finally, I sigh to myself. Because I know -- I _know_ -- there's only one way to make these feelings go away. _And Bobby isn't gonna like it…._

**************************

Bobby Hobbes needs some sleep. But I'm not sleeping. I toss and turn. Pound my pillow. Count sheep. Run through all the swear words I know, one by one. In English, French, Russian -- even the Arab ones I learned in the Marines. 

__

Shit. Mérde. Supriste!

No dice. I do everything I can think of, to try to get to sleep. But none of it works. I can't sleep. Not that I ever do sleep well, but right now, it's worse than usual. I can't even close my eyes. 

Finally, I give in and take a few tranquilizers. _Shit!_ _I hate doing that. Know I'll pay for it tomorrow. Always have a helluva time waking up, after they kick in. But tonight, I got no choice. 'Cause he's there. Fawkes is there. In the next room. Lying there on my couch, all loose and slinky and half naked. Hell, for all I know, maybe he's totally naked by now. I wouldn't be surprised. _I groan, trying not to imagine that_. Can't think about that, or I won't ever sleep_. 

But of course, I think about it anyway. My head fills with images of Darien on the beach. Shedding his clothes in the moonlight. Walking out of the waves, all wet and sleek and sexy. 

With sugar on his full lips, instead of salt.

__

Shit! 

I almost groan out loud. _If I didn't know Darien was in the next room, I would; 'cause I've got a hard-on that won't quit. Thanks to him_. I pound my pillow again, almost like it's Fawkes's sexy, tempting head. _It's his fault! It's all his fault! He's making me crazy!_ _How the hell can I sleep, knowing he's out there? He's probably asleep already, of course. Probably went to sleep within seconds, damn him. But how can he sleep, when we're -- okay, when I'm -- wide awake and horny?_

Okay, I admit it! I can't think about anything else, when he's in the next room. Nothing but him. Nothing but Sex, with a capital s. Sex with Darien. Isn't that a kicker, when I don't even know what to do to him? Well, I mean, I got some ideas. I've heard some things, seen some stuff in movies. But knowing that part A goes into slot B don't cut it, where sex is concerned. Experience is what counts. Without it, you end up fumbling around like a virgin who doesn't know a thing. 

But I wanna know. Boy, do I wanna know! What he likes, what it would take to make 

him --

A familiar wave of insecurity sweeps over me. _What makes you think you *could* make him --?_ _Stop it, _I tell myself. _Don't do this! You're just setting yourself up for a big disappointment, and you know it. Don't assume that kiss meant anything. _

Finally, self doubt does what nothing else could, and my arousal subsides a bit. _Darien's just lost right now. Lonely. He'll find a woman soon enough. Or maybe another guy. Whatever. And he'll forget all about this -- this -- this thing we've got between us. Whatever it is. Geez, I don't even know what it is! What to call it. If I should even let it happen. Or if I can stop it, at this point._

That's what I know, all right. Fuck-all. _About everything!_

It makes me furious. I'm so mad I feel like I'm steaming, like I'm throwing off heat. Like I'm sweating, 'cause my desire for Darien's so hopeless. _I'm probably just so tired, I'm starting to feel funky. _But I throw off my blankets anyway, lie back down, and stare up at the ceiling. I find myself listening for the sound of Fawkes's breathing.I can't hear it, and it worries me._ Don't get crazy, _I tell myself_. He's okay. He's just too far away. That's all._

I realize, I'm being selfish here. _Fawkes did something really scary tonight. If I'd done that, I'd want someone to be there with me now. But he's all alone out there. He can't even talk to me, 'cause I'm too far away_. 

__

That's my fault. I did that deliberately, put that distance between us to protect myself. Well, maybe both of us. But I never thought about how it'd make him feel. Was that another mistake? _Maybe. Guess if it was, it'd be easy enough to fix. But I'm afraid of what'll happen if I try. _So I lie there for awhile longer in the dark. Listening for Darien's breathing, and not hearing it. Getting more and more worried about him. 

__

Maybe he isn't asleep yet, after all. Maybe he's just like me. Maybe he can't sleep. 

__

But he needs to, _after taking that long swim, and then towing me most of the way back. Not to mention the way he broke down and cried, after_. _He's gotta be mentally and physically exhausted. I know he is, that's why he fell asleep in the van. He needs to get some more shut-eye. But somehow, I don't think he's sleeping. Why can't I hear him breathing?_

I feel myself winding up tighter and tighter inside. I can feel my whole body getting tense, and I know I'll never get to sleep if this keeps up. Trying to relax, I reach over and turn on this little lamp beside my bed. It's just bright enough to dispel the darkness a little, to give things near me shape and form. _It helps on nights like this, when I'm too keyed up to sleep. It lets me see that I'm safe. That there are no intruders in my place. No one hiding in the shadows._ Usually, that calms me down enough so I can get some rest. But not tonight. Tonight, for once, I'm more worried about the thief who's already in my apartment, than about any potential burglars. 

Trying to distract myself from thoughts of Darien, I look around at my stuff, my furniture. But that's not much help. All I can think is, how I bought most of it with Viv. _And she's not here now. Hell, she won't even talk to me. _That's a familiar pain, an old one, but it never goes away. _It kept me from having any kind of serious relationship with anyone else. That faint hope I've been carrying around that maybe someday, she'd take me back_.

__

But I know she won't. _That's just another lie I keep telling myself, to get me through nights that get lonelier and lonelier_. _Viv's gone. Gone, and she's never coming back._

That wound's so dark, so deep, that years haven't dulled the pain much. 

__

Wonder how much this thing with Fawkes has to do with her? Am I just trying to use him to take that old ache away, to make up for losing her? 

I turn that question over in my head for a minute. _Naw. It ain't that. What I feel for Darien's real. It's deep. It's way more than rebound desperation. He means a lot to me. More than anyone has since Viv left._

But that just makes me feel more alone than ever, because Fawkes isn't in here with me. 

Then I have an even worse thought. _What if I can't hear him 'cause he's not there? What if I really am alone? What if he left again? Got pissed because I left him alone and took off, for God knows where?_

No. He wouldn't. He promised me….

But so did Vivian. She promised me she'd stay forever, and look how that turned out.

My heart speeds up even more. My anxiety's soaring, getting out of control. _I'm not gonna be able to lie here much longer, without checking on Fawkes._ Then I hear the sound of someone moving in the next room. I've been listening so hard, for so long, that the soft padding of footsteps out there seems loud. I sit up in bed, my heart racing. For a second, I wonder if someone was watching my place, when we got here. What if someone saw us come in together, and came here to kill Fawkes? To kill the Invisible Man --

I almost reach for my gun. Then I see him. My bedside lamp gives off just enough light that I can make out this long, lean figure in my doorway, and my heart turns over. _It's Darien._ This little voice deep inside me says, _Thank you, God, he's still wearing his pants_. But another, evil little voice says, _Yeah, but you could get lucky. That could change_. I scream at both of them to shut up, and try to slow my racing heart down. _Calm, be calm_, I chant to myself. 

Fawkes leans casually against my doorframe. "Hey," he says quietly. "I saw your light."

__

Least he isn't talking about sugar anymore. Thank God. The fact that he's not flirting anymore's a relief. Still, seeing him half naked in my bedroom doorway takes my breath away. It takes me a second to get myself together, to think of something safe to say back to him. "Whatsa matter, Fawkes? You can't sleep?" _Dumb question, but what am I supposed to say? "Come on in, and we can screw like rabbits?" 'Cause one look at him, and it's all I wanna do. _

"Naw." He shrugs, straightens up and comes toward me. "You?"

Once he gets closer, I notice that Darien looks different_. Hesitant. Not as cocky as usual. A little lost, maybe. Dunno if it's because he's still freaked after that swim, or if it's because he thinks he's trespassing, and that I don't want him in here. He's partly right about that. Half of me doesn't. But the other half's turning fucking cartwheels, 'cause he's standing by my bed, shirtless and looking vulnerable. _

I try to forget about that. About Fawkes's bare chest, that is. Try to forget how handsome he is, and focus on the vulnerable part instead, on the fact that he's my friend. _My friend who almost died tonight. My friend who needs help. _

I was gonna kick him outta here. Tell him some lie that I was sleeping, sleeping like a baby, thank you very much, until he walked in. _But I can't_. _He's not flirting now, he's hurting. He's looking down at me with those big dark eyes, and they look sad right now, so sad. Like they did down on the beach_. That sadness gets to me. Somehow, I can't lie to him when he looks like that. It'd be like kicking a puppy. So I shake my head. "Naw. Me neither."

I see it in Darien's eyes. He can't say it, but I know why he's here, why he wasn't sleeping either_. 'Cause he was too far away. Too alone, out there on my couch_.

"Okay," I sigh, giving in. _It looks like there's only one way we're gonna be able to relax tonight; and that's if he's with me_. Hardly able to believe I'm doing it, I feel myself moving over to the right side of the bed, to make room for him. "Come on. Climb in."

"Really?" Fawkes scratches the back of his neck like he's not sure about it, but his eyes tell me the truth. They light up like a couple of candles, at the thought of climbing into my bed.

__

Oh God, I think. But I pretend not to notice. "Sure. What the hell." I shrug, trying to look more casual than I feel. 

"Okay." Fawkes quits pretending that he's reluctant, and in about a half a second, he jumps into my bed. Slides in beside me with one of his typically graceful, slinky moves. _Christ! Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. _Then it gets worse. He turns to me and smiles. This warm smile that gets to me. "Thanks, Bob--"

__

Uh oh. Next thing you know, he'll be talking about sugar again, and I'll lose it!

I cut him off. "Shh! Lie down! No talking," I order tersely. _No touching either_, I think, but I don't say it. I figure if I stay way over on my side of the bed, that won't happen anyway, so there's no need to say it. Fawkes lies down without another word. He looks disappointed, but I don't care. "This ain't no slumber party, Penelope!" I growl. "Just keep quiet, so I can get to sleep."

"Okay!"

"Shhh!"

Fawkes rolls his eyes, but he shuts up.

__

Good. I lie back and close my eyes. Still, I'm painfully aware of his bare chest and long, lean body, just about a foot away from me. I can _feel_ him there, even though I can't see him anymore. It's the same kinda torture I just felt in the van, when he fell asleep on my shoulder. So I don't bother pulling up the covers again. I leave the sheets and blankets folded back at the bottom of the bed, because with Fawkes lying right next to me, the one thing I'm not gonna be is cold. _Too hot, is more like it._

After a minute or so, I realize it's not nearly as dark as it should be, even with my eyes closed. _The lamp. I forgot to turn off the lamp_. I wait a bit, hoping maybe Fawkes will turn it off, but he doesn't move. I open my eyes a little to check him out. He's settled down on his pillow, eyes closed, face peaceful. But it's like he's got radar or something, 'cause as soon as I look at him, he opens his eyes and smiles at me again. 

__

Dammit! That crooked little smile just gets to me. Everything in me wants to respond. Every cell in my body says, _Yeah, go for it! Grab him! Get some sugar!_ But my conscience says, _No. Remember, he almost died tonight_. So I set my jaw, reach over and shut off the lamp. _That way, at least I can't see him_. "Go to sleep," I tell him sternly.

"Okay --"

"_Shhhh!"_

Finally, Darien shuts up. For about a minute. Then, almost like he's talking to himself, he says quietly, "It was cold out there, Hobbes."

I swallow hard again. _At least he didn't mention any erotic white substances this time. At least that's something. But I'm guessing he's not talking about the temperature in my living room, either. _Once again, I have to force myself not to reach out for him. But I know that wouldn't be a good idea, so I just say, "If you're cold, pull up the blankets."

"No. I mean, out in the ocean." Now his voice is so low it's almost a whisper. 

"Yeah. I know, ki--Fawkesy." For a minute, I hold my breath. It's the first time he's brought up his swim since he did it, and I feel a flash of hope. _Maybe, just maybe, he's finally gonna tell me what he was doing out there. What made him try to off himself._ I lie there waiting for it. Hoping for it.

But it seems he isn't thinking about himself. Because when Darien finally talks again, all he says is, "Thanks for coming for me, Bobby."

That gets to me even more than his little smile did_. I'll always come for you. No matter what_. _I'd come for you in Hell, if I had to._ "I'm your partner," I say, trying hard to keep my voice even this time. "That's what partners do."

That's true, but it's only a half truth. Loyalty and protectiveness aren't the only reasons why I'd do anything, go anywhere to save him. They're only part of what I feel. But he doesn't need to know that. I still haven't decided if it'd be good for him to figure out the rest of it.

Then again, maybe he already has. Because I hear this funny kind of rustling sound, and for a second, I wonder what the hell he's doing. Then Fawkes' hand brushes my arm. I'm so surprised, and so on edge, that I jump. But Fawkes doesn't let go. He curls his long fingers lightly around my bicep. 

"I know," he says softly. "And I just wanna say … I wanna tell you -- not to worry anymore." His fingers move, sliding down my arm until his hand finds mine. He finds it, folds his larger hand around it, and holds it. "I said I wasn't gonna leave, and I won't. I'm staying here with you tonight, Bobby. I swear."

__

That's the second time he's said that. He's really trying hard to reassure me that he's okay now. Not sure I believe it. I'd feel better about it if he'd tell me why he did it, that's for damn sure. But at least I know he's gonna stay put tonight. That's something. 

But what really gets to me is his touch. _It wasn't enough that he said the words, he had to hold onto me while he did it._ _I'm only just starting to see how important touch is to him._ _I never realized that before. Maybe because he's never let his guard down enough around me before, to say or do stuff like this_. Suddenly, it doesn't matter so much why he took that swim. _Guess he can tell me that when he's ready. Right now, the way he's holding onto my hand is enough. _

His gesture puts a lump in my throat. I can't say a word. I know I should move, pull my hand away. Let him go. But I can't do that, either, because his touch means a lot to me, too. _I've been alone too long myself. I know how it is, how down you can get. How it makes your nights seem so dark. How they feel like they'll never end. If it weren't for my pills, I'd've probably done something as stupid as his swim myself, long before this_. So instead of letting go, I squeeze his hand a little. Just so he knows that I got the message. That I understand. 

Finally, when a few minutes have gone by and I know I won't embarrass myself by sounding choked up anymore, I tease him a little. "You better stay. 'Cause if you tried to leave, I'd just have to go after you again. And it's a pain in the ass, hunting you down."

For a second, Darien doesn't say anything. Then: "You would, wouldn't you? You'd hunt me down again."

"Oh yeah! Like a dog," I grin. "Just like an invisible dog, my friend."

I feel the bed shaking beside me, then Darien bursts out laughing. 

I start laughing too. _It's been a long time since I've heard him laugh out loud. Too long_…. After all we've been through tonight, it feels good, lying here in the dark laughing with him. Really good. As our laughter slowly fades, I realize he's still holding onto my hand. And that I'm letting him. I shrug. _Aw, what the hell_.

When we're quiet again, I repeat, "Go to sleep, Fawkes."

"Okay. G'night, Hobbesy."

"Night."

This time, Fawkes does what he's told. Within about five minutes, his breathing gets deep and even, and I know he's asleep. _Funny thing, though. Even then, he doesn't let go of my hand._ His grip loosens a bit, but not enough for me to pull away without waking him up.

I shrug and decide that's okay. Now that Fawkes is safe at last, that doesn't seem so important. _It's one of those little things. The things my shrinks are always telling me you're not supposed to sweat_. So I don't. Now that he's here beside me where I can keep an eye on him, and he's promised not to leave, I stop sweating, period. The hard knot of anxiety that formed in my belly hours ago, when he went invisible and took off, finally loosens, then disappears. 

I finally stop worrying about Darien for awhile, and think about myself. _I feel like crap_. I'm sticky. Sandy. And so fucking tired, I ache with it. I know Darien's tired and dirty, too. _Shower in the morning_, I promise myself. _We'll both do that._ _First thing_. 

At last, I give in. Let go. Relax. I close my eyes, and listen to Fawkes breathing. Even though it's kind of weird having him in my bed, and even stranger to have him holding onto my hand, it feels sort of good, too. _Nice to have someone else in my bed for a change. Even better that it's him. _I like the steady sound of his breathing. It sounds regular. Peaceful. Reassuring.

__

Fuck the Pacific, I think, with a sense of satisfaction this time. _He's gonna be okay. I'll make sure of that. Bobby Hobbes is on the case._

Darien's hand is warm in mine as I drift off.

***************************************

Later that night, my bad dreams come back. 

__

It's a different one this time, but it's familiar. I've had it a lot. _I'm back in prison. The first time. In Quentin, for B & E._

It's bad. 

I'm in the showers, and I've never been so scared in my whole life. Not even when I was arrested. Cops aren't nearly as scary as the guys who are standing near me. And I'm all alone. Outnumbered. Everyone else disappeared, like they knew this was gonna happen. Wish I could disappear, too. Or curl up into this little ball on the floor and pretend this isn't happening. I know I'm gonna end up there anyway.

'Cause there's seven of 'em. They're big, ugly mothers, with bulging muscles from years of prison workouts. A couple of them have shaved heads. All of 'em have ugly, menacing tattoos. I haven't been here long enough yet to know what gang they're from. That doesn't really matter anyway. What matters is, there's seven of them, and only one of me. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who's gonna win this confrontation. 

Or what they're gonna do to me.

They explained all that real clearly, actually. Spelled it out in graphic detail, with big smiles on their ugly faces.

Then they did it, while I screamed.

********************************************

__

What the fuck--? I wake with a start. Bobby Hobbes doesn't scare easy, but there's this sound, this awful, scary moaning beside me in the dark that sends my heart into overdrive. I just wanna get away from it, and I scramble up to a sitting position instinctively. Before I'm even half awake, I've got my back against the wall for self defense. Then my brain kicks in. _What the hell's going on?_ _Is that me? Was I in a fight?_ I wonder, still foggy with sleep. _Am I making that noise because I'm hurt?_ I pat myself down. Touch my chest, and realize that I'm not in pain. I'm tired, but not hurting.

__

It isn't me. That awful sound's coming from the other side of the bed.

At that, awareness comes back with a rush. _Darien. It's Darien! Oh, shit. He must be having a nightmare. A whopper, by the sound of it. _It's almost hard to believe. _I have nightmares a lot, but Fawkes? He's the stable one, the solid one. Least I always thought so, before tonight…. _But I'm starting to see how wrong I was about Fawkes being Mr. Casual, or some kinda Rock of Gibraltar, either. _He had a bad dream in the van, too. This is his second time tonight. The kid must have more demons inside than I ever knew_. 

__

And right now, they're after him.

He moans again, louder this time. This horrible moan, pain and terror mixed up together. I wonder if he's dreaming about the ocean, about what he tried to do tonight. But before I can say anything, his hands flail out. One of them hits me, and then things get worse. He cries out in fear, and I feel the bed dip. I hear this frantic scrabbling sound, and I know he's rolling away from me. Away from my touch. But I don't think he's awake yet. I reach out and turn on the lamp, and see that he's just about to roll right off the far edge of the bed. 

Don't want him to hurt himself, so I reach out and grab his arm. Pull him back into the middle of the bed. "Whoa there, Fawkes! Easy. Wake up --"

__

"Nnnoooo! Don't!" He's almost screaming. His eyes are still closed, but his chest's heaving. He pulls away from me frantically, and curls up into a ball_. _Knees up to his chest, arms over his face. He's shaking. Saying, "No, no!"

Geez. What do shrinks call that, the fetal position? Christ! I jerk my hand back, my heart pounding, scared for him_. Thank God I didn't take him back to his apartment and leave him alone! Whatever the fuck this is, it's bad. Don't think he's dreaming about that swim, either. I've never seen him like this. The only time I've seen anything like this is in combat. What the hell happened to him, that scared him that bad?_

Whatever it was, I know better than to try touching him again. Instead, I lower my voice and talk softly. "It's okay, Darien. You're just having a bad dream, partner. But it's over now. Darien, it's over. You're okay. Come on, buddy, wake up!"

Finally, after what seems like forever but is probably only a few seconds, Darien stops crying out. He's still breathing hard, chest heaving like he's been running, but I think he heard me. I think he's awake, but he's still got his arms up over his face, so I can't be sure.

I try again. "Hey, Darien. It's okay. You awake now?"

I see his throat working, see him swallow hard, see his chest rising and falling in rapid, panicked breaths. He still doesn't move, but finally, he croaks, "Bobby?" He's so hoarse, he doesn't even sound like himself. I can still feel his terror.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me. You okay?"

I wanna touch him, but I'm not sure I should yet, because he doesn't answer. He just takes this deep, shuddering breath, and blows it out again. I give him a minute. I don't say anything, I just watch while the awful tension drains out of his muscles, and his breathing gradually slows. He drops his arms and starts to uncurl, and I can almost feel his relief. 

Finally, I reach over and touch his shoulder. "You okay?" 

He nods dully, but I know he's lying. He's shaking, and he's cold. He's like ice. When he finally looks up at me, his face is pale. His hair's stuck to his forehead, matted with cold sweat. And his eyes --

__

Jesus. His eyes are wide and black with pain. That look tears into me. Makes me feel just like I did when Viv left. Helpless. Left out. 'Cause I don't have a clue what's going on with him. What brought this on. And for once, Fawkes isn't talking.

From the look of him, he probably can't. Not yet.

"Stay here," I tell him. I've had more than a little experience with nightmares myself. _Oh, yeah. Been there, done that, got the fucking T-shirt._ And I know what always makes me feel better. I get up and go into the bathroom. Wet a facecloth, and bring it back to him. Fawkes is sitting up now, in the middle of the bed. He's breathing better, but he's still pale. His head's hanging, and he's staring at nothing.

"Here." I hold the cloth out to him.

He gives me this blank, confused look, like he doesn't have a clue what to do with it. Then he looks away again, without taking it. _Wherever that nightmare took him to, I guess part of him is still there. He's not thinking straight yet_. So I climb back onto the bed beside him. I hesitate for a second, wondering if he'll let me do this. _What the hell. Never know until you try_. "Hey, Fawkesy."

When he turns his head to look at me again, I reach out and use the cloth to gently wipe the sweat off his forehead. I keep my voice as soft as that touch. "Ya look like crap," I tell him gently. "Scared the crap outta me, too."

Fawkes doesn't smile. But to my surprise, he doesn't pull away, either. He closes his eyes and swallows hard, while I wipe the sweat off his face. "That feels good," he whispers. "Thanks." 

I shrug. "No problem."

I do some more blotting, then Darien silently takes the cloth away and finishes wiping the sweat off his face himself. To my surprise, he's still not talking. _Hell, he won't even look at me. Embarrassed, I guess. If he only knew how many times I've woke up screaming, he wouldn't be. _For a second, I consider just letting him be, and not prying into this. _I wish I could._ _But after what he just did … it probably wouldn't be safe to just let it go. If I'm gonna protect him, I gotta know what's going on here_. "You gonna tell me what that was all about?"

Instead of answering the question, Darien bends his head and wipes the sweat off the back of his neck. The gesture helps to hide his eyes, and I figure he meant it to. "Sorry I woke you," he says tersely.

Those words are as much a warning as they are an apology. He's telling me to back off, that he doesn't want to talk about this. But I can't let it go. "That doesn't matter. Fawkes, what --"

He turns to look at me again, and suddenly, his face is tight. Blazing with anger. "Don't! Just shut up, dammit! _Stop_ _mothering me_!" he snarls.

That hurts. After all we've been through, especially after tonight, that cuts deep. That he'd shut me out like that, get pissed off when I'm only trying to help. I know he didn't mean to do it, that he's really freaked out because of that dream, not angry at me. Still, it stings. I shrug and look away, not wanting him to see that. "Okay. You're right. Let's just forget it."

He hangs his head again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him squeeze the face cloth until his hand turns white. "Bobby --"

"No, it's fine," I shrug. "You don't wanna talk about it, that's okay. I was just kinda concerned, ya know, 'cause you were screamin' and all. But if you think that makes me sound like your mother, then --"

Darien's sets his jaw so hard that a muscle quivers in his cheek. "Okay. It was about _prison!_" he grates, from between clenched teeth. "I have bad dreams sometimes. About _prison_. Okay?"

__

Oh geez. Dunno what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. _And it's not okay._ I feel a jolt of pain, of empathy, iced with cold horror. This time, I'm the one who doesn't answer.

"It's nothing, all right?" Fawkes insists, but we both know he's lying. 

__

Still, at least he opened up a bit. Enough to tell me what that nightmare was about. But knowing makes me feel worse for him. Because now I can guess what scared him so bad in prison, and it makes me sick. Sick to even think about it. _Darien's so gentle -- and he didn't have any training in self defense, either. He wouldn't've had a chance. I always used to wonder why he never talks much about doing time. Guess now I know._

Darien draws in a shaky breath, and I can sense what it cost him to even tell me that much. So I don't push it any further. "Okay. Yeah, sure, kid. It's okay." 

Darien nods. I know he must feel relieved, but he doesn't show it. He doesn't show any emotion at all. He hands the cloth back to me without a word, without even looking at me. But he doesn't realize what his face is revealing. He's got this stony, blank expression that's so completely closed off, and so totally not like him, that it speaks volumes. 

__

For the first time since I've known him, he looks tough. Hard. Like the ruthless ex-con he likes to pretend he is. Think I'm seeing his prison face -- and I don't like it. _Maybe it's part of him, but it's a learned part, it's not natural. Not who Darien really is_. _That's how guys look when they get pushed past their limits. When the only way to stay sane is to retreat mentally, to go deep inside yourself. I hate whoever did that to him. Whoever taught him to look like that_. 

I take the sweat-soaked cloth back to the bathroom, rinse it out and then go back to bed. But this time, when I climb back in beside Fawkes, I feel a little awkward. _I know I shouldn't. I just found out, he's like me in a way I never realized. He has nightmares, too. But they're not like mine. Even though he didn't give me any details, I'm pretty sure about that._ _So_ _I'm not sure what to say to him. What he wants me to say or do, if anything. I've never known anyone with this kind of problem before. With this kind of past._ _I wanna help him, but I don't know how, or if he'll even let me._

All that worry must show on my face, because Fawkes takes one look at me and says, "Let's just go back to sleep, okay?" He almost sounds like he's pleading, and a hint of embarrassment, of shame, colors his expression. _Wish I could tell him not to feel like that. What, does he think he's the only guy in the world who has bad dreams? Then again, maybe it's what he went through in the joint that's embarrassing him, more than the fact that he woke up yelling. _

In any case, it's obvious he'd rather have teeth pulled than talk about it anymore. So I let it go. For now. "Sure, partner." I climb back into bed and turn out the light again. "Night, Fawkes."

He doesn't say anything, but I hear him lie down beside me again. Still, for a long time after that, he doesn't go back to sleep. I know, because I don't either. I can hear Darien breathing, and the rhythm's way too fast for a sleeper.

__

He's still upset, I think. _He can't let go of it_. I lie there thinking about it, about the unexpected things that -- and his nightmare -- says about Darien Fawkes. _I always thought he was cheerful by nature. Carefree, before he got forced into working for the Agency. 'Cause he's got that sexy, cocky walk. That whole loose, slouchy thing going on. His body language always says, I'm on top of the world. I've never had a worry in my life. _

Guess that's not true. Seems like he's carrying a load of pain around in that seemingly loose, agile body. There's a lot of bad memories lurking behind his handsome face. Prison, for starters. Then losing his brother, and last but not least, ending up at the Agency. Guess it's not surprising he has nightmares. What's amazing is that he's still sane. Still funny and brave and caring, after all that.

At least, he was when he first came to the Agency. But somehow, lately, he's slipped. He's on the edge now. Tonight, he almost went over it. And I don't think it was because of whatever's behind that nightmare, either. That was about prison, so he must've been having it -- and living with whatever caused it -- for a long time. Years, maybe. But he was doing okay anyway, until lately. So something else must've gotten to him recently, to make him take that swim. Maybe that fear, whatever it is, brought those prison nightmares back, too.

I feel a twinge of guilt, because I have some idea what it is he's scared of. _That fucking gland. He must've got hurt in prison, but at least I didn't have anything to do with that.… But I think that thing in his head's hurt him even worse. And I am a part of that. Part of what keeps him trapped here. _

That hurts, way down deep inside. The thought that I'm no better, in a way, than those goons who must've hurt Fawkes in prison; because I'm doing almost the same thing. Keeping him down, keeping him trapped in a place he hates. 

__

Not for the first time, I wonder how just doing my job led me to this: hurting my own partner. In the beginning, I thought the gland was a good thing. I was glad we were the only ones who had an invisible spy. Glad that it gave us an edge. I thought of all the good Fawkes could do with it. How he could help his country. 

He has…. But now that I know him, now that we've gotten close, I'm starting to think maybe that help costs too much. That the US government should find some other way to use Fawkes's talents than by keeping that damn gland in his brain, and shoving drugs and needles into him all the time, to keep it going. It's getting to the kid, I think. Slowly but surely --

Suddenly, like he can hear what I'm thinking, Darien sits up beside me. I can't see him, but I can hear his jeans rustle against the sheets. He must know I'm not sleeping either, because he asks, "Okay if I take a shower?" His voice is quiet now. Not angry anymore. Not so shook up.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," I say automatically. "There's fresh towels in there." I sit up again, and turn on the light for him. _But I wonder what he's going in there to try to wash off: his nightmare, or that long swim. Maybe both. Wonder if it'll work, either way._

"Thanks, Hobbes." 

Then I get one of my paranoid flashes. _Oh no. Maybe I shouldn't let him do that! I know he promised he wouldn't leave, but he didn't say he wouldn't try anything stupid again. That dream really freaked him out, and there might be a lot worse things in my bathroom than fresh towels._

But it's too late to say no now. Fawkes is already up, and padding towards the bathroom. Then he stops, and looks back over his shoulder. "Go back to sleep, Bobby," he says gently. Like he knows I'm still worried about him. Like he's trying to make up for jumping down my throat before.

"Yeah, sure," I lie. Like I can sleep when my partner, who just tried to whack himself, is heading for my bathroom! Too late, I realize that he could lock himself in there. _I'd have to break down the door…. Aw, crap!_ Heart racing, I start frantically doing this mental inventory of the room's contents. _No scissors, no sharp objects…. My razor's on my dresser, and my pills are all in there, too. So he's safe. Unless he can figure out a way to brain himself with my toothbrush, there's nothing in there he could hurt himself with. All right. It's all right, he'll be okay. _

The tension drains out of me, and I lie back down, realizing that I'm still tired. I look at my clock. _Geez, it's only 3:30. No wonder!_ _We hardly got any sleep at all, before he had that nightmare, and woke us up again. _I wait for the sound of the water turning on in my shower. When it comes, I feel better. _But I don't think I'll be able to go back to sleep until he comes outta there._

Still, I close my eyes. _Fuck, I'm tired._

I think maybe the tranks I took earlier are finally starting to kick in, because my eyes feel heavy. But I know I can't just go to sleep. I'm more worried about Fawkes than ever, now. _First he wouldn't tell me why he went swimming. Now I find out he has nightmares about prison too, but he won't talk about them, either._

All that darkness, all that silence. From the wild child. The party boy who loves to play, who loves to talk and tease. It doesn't make sense. Doesn't jibe with the Fawkes I know. 

"Bobby, I'm scared. I'm so scared…" 

He's not the only one. I listen to the sound of the water, and wonder if the Darien I know is the real thing, or just the tip of the Fawkesian iceberg. Just the little bit of him he's felt safe letting me see up 'till now.

***************************

I take my time with my shower. I wash my hair, then let the hot water run over me for awhile. Let it warm me up, steam the chill of my nightmare out of my bones. _I haven't had that damn dream for a long time. Why the fuck did I have to have it tonight? In Hobbes' bed? FUCK! Now he knows…. At least, he suspects. I saw it in his eyes. And that's bad enough. _

It sucks. Shame rushes through me. I can feel my face burning, turning red. I hang my head under the spray, let it wash over my head and neck, as if that will sluice away all the bad feelings. My past, my humiliation, my fears. _But I know it won't. _

I try to tell myself it doesn't matter that Bobby found out. That what happened to me in prison wasn't exactly a secret anyway. _I've never told anyone at the Agency about it, but I'm sure they've all probably figured it out on their own._ _At least some of it. Everyone knows what happens to pretty boys in prison, right?_

__

Yeah, everyone. Including Bobby. That's what really hurts. _I don't care much about the others, about what they think -- but I never wanted Bobby to know. Never. Not for sure -- and now he does. Worse, he wanted me to talk about it! _

"Shit," I mutter under my breath, remembering the sickening, almost nauseating humiliation I felt, when he tried to ask me what woke me up screaming_. I got so embarrassed, I acted like an idiot. He was being kind, trying to help me, and I lost it, and lit into him. _I feel a sharp stab of regret. _I'm such a prick, sometimes! _

I set my jaw hard, so hard that my teeth grind together. I'm so wound up, my whole body feels like one huge knot. I lean forward a bit more, and let the water pound on my shoulders, trying to ease the tension there. _I should apologize. I wanna talk to him, I really do. I need to. But not about that. I've never talked to anyone on the outside about that. Not even Kevin, or Casey. She heard me wake up screaming once, and she asked me about it, too. But I couldn't tell her either._

I've never told anyone, except the prison doc that time. I don't know how to. I don't think I can talk to Bobby about it, either. He's so macho, so tough … Don't think he could ever understand what it was like.

That's why I'm in here. _It's not about taking a shower -- I'm really hiding. Hiding from Bobby, from the questions in his eyes. The questions about prison. I could practically hear them bouncing around in his head, after I woke him up screaming like that. _

The hot water's pouring down on me, but I still feel cold inside. _How's that old saying go? Life sucks, then you die? Well, in my case, it'd be more like:_ _Life sucks, then they put a gland in your head, and it gets worse. Then the government won't **let** you die, 'cause you're worth too much!_

I shake my head. _Bad joke, Fawkes. If that's the best you can do, you oughtta get out more_. _Speaking of getting out, maybe I'd better. I've been in here so long, I'm gonna turn into a six-foot-something prune if I don't_._ Besides, if I know Bobby, he's probably lying out there worrying about me, instead of going back to sleep. _

I force myself to turn off the water, and get out of the shower. _Can't hide forever_, I tell myself. _Much as I'd like to._

As I dry off and towel dry my hair, I try to put what just happened out of my mind by concentrating on what I'm doing. _Focus on the moment, on the task at hand. Nothing else. _That's another little trick I learned in prison_. Fuck the future, screw the past. Live in the now_. It helps a bit. My fear and shame recede a little, but they don't go away. That dream was too intense, too vivid for me to banish the feelings it brought back very easily. 

Once again, I wonder at its timing. _I don't understand why I had it now, when I'm with Hobbes. He makes me feel safe. Once we made it back to shore, I did feel safe. So why the fuck did that happen?_ _I don't have that nightmare very often anymore. Usually only when I drink too much, or when I get really stressed out._

Bingo! The light goes on in my head. _Stress! Of course! That's it! That's why I had it! I've been feeling bad for a long time, and tonight, it got to be too much. Once Bobby found me, I felt safe, but before that -- I just about killed myself. That must be why that frigging dream came back! Because of the stress of that swim. 'Cause I was so upset over everything, and feeling so bad about myself after Bobby's rejection. My mind just went back to the last time I felt that bad, after I was attacked in prison. _

That realization makes me feel a little better. _At least I know it has nothing to do with Bobby, or being in his bed, or my feelings about him. _

Or does it?

I get another disturbing little flash of insight. _What happened to me in prison is one of the few important things Hobbes doesn't know about me. This dirty little secret I've been too afraid to tell him. Maybe I didn't have the dream because I went swimming. Maybe I had it because Bobby was lying right next to me, and even though he means so much to me, I'm still too ashamed to tell him the truth about my past. Maybe that was my subconscious, telling me that I need to._

Shit!

Just when you think maybe you've got yourself all figured out, you realize you don't.

I towel my face dry, and take a look at myself in Bobby's mirror. _I look crappy. My face is pale, my hair's still damp and messy, and I look tired. No, I look freaked. Surprise, surprise. _I try to smile, but the resulting grimace looks so bad, it even scares me. I frown at my reflection. _I can't go back to bed looking like this. Bobby'll worry himself sick, or try to ask me more questions._

I bow my head_. I can't take that. Not now. I'm having a hard enough time, just trying to figure out a way to explain my swim to him. But prison, too -- that's too much. Too much pain, too much ugly shit to confess, all at once. I can't do it._

But I know I should. _Fuck! What do I do?_ I know I've gotta go back out there, but I'm afraid. I'm all mixed up. I feel humiliated. Confused. I picture telling Bobby, and how he might react -- how he might freak -- and it's too much. The strain starts to build inside me. I hear this roaring in my ears, and I can feel my heart beating way too hard. I grip the edges of Bobby's bathroom sink so hard that my fingers turn white. I feel this little tremor in my hands. _I want to! But I can't --_

Finally, just when I think I'm about to snap, this voice inside me says, _Chill out! Calm down. If you can't tell him about the rape, then forget it! Don't. Let that part of it go for tonight. Stop thinking about prison, about that goddamn dream and what Bobby may think of you because of it. It's not getting you anywhere, and_ _if you don't stop, you'll never have the guts to leave his bathroom._ _You'll stay in here all night, making yourself crazy all over again. And making Bobby crazy, too._

Let it go for now. Just let it go.

Okay. I feel pressure releasing inside, like steam hissing out of a suddenly opened valve_. _

I let out a breath of relief_. I'll tell Bobby about my swim right now. The rest can wait._

Okay. That sounds like a plan. _I can do that. _The awful tension drains back out of me, and when I look down, I see my hands loosen their death grip on Hobbes' sink. I close my eyes and mentally shove all of the rest of it, the whole ugly, dark kit and caboodle of my prison past, down into this deep, dark hole in my mind. Then I imagine slamming a lid down on those memories. This big trap door that's heavy enough to hold them all in, so they won't bother me for awhile. 

That helps. Suddenly, I can think of other things. Like how tired I still am, despite that shower. And how much I really, really want to go back to Bobby's soft, warm bed, lie down beside him, and sleep. _Really sleep, with no nightmares this time_.

__

Maybe I'll be able to, after I tell him about my swim.

I let go of the sink, look into the mirror again and try another smile. It looks better this time. Almost human. Nearly normal. _Okay. I'm good to go. _Then I realize, I'm not quite ready to go back to bed yet, because I'm still naked.

__

Wish I had my p.j.'s with me. The old striped ones, that I like to sleep in. Or even a pair of underwear. Anything but my jeans._ But I don't even have any underwear with me. I wasn't wearing any when I came over here. Slut_, I think ruefully, remembering how I thought I could seduce Bobby. _That seems like a hundred years ago now._ _So much has happened since then. _

I feel a twinge of fear. _After what Bobby just found out about me, I doubt he'd appreciate it if I climbed into his bed buck naked. Then again _…_after the way he looked at me when I teased him about the sugar, maybe he would._

I think about it for a second, about Bobby wanting me, and the thought's flavored brightly with hope. But then my darker feelings come back. I remember the stunned look in his eyes when I told him my nightmare was about prison, and I reluctantly decide I'd better not leave my jeans off. _Bobby's probably already regretting that he even brought me here. He knew I was a freak, but not that kinda freak. Better not push it. _

So I pick up my jeans with a sigh. _They're dry now, but they're still kinda sandy. Hate to put 'em back on after I just showered, but I guess I don't have much choice._ I shake them a little, experimentally, and sand rains onto Bobby's bathroom tiles.I shake them again, harder, and more sand rains down. _Oops!_ _Oh well. Better here than in Hobbes' bed, I guess. I'll clean that up in the morning. _

I pull my now relatively sand-free jeans back on, turn out the light, and head back to bed.

But to my surprise, Bobby's not waiting for me anymore. All that agonizing I just did was a waste of time. I don't have to explain anything now, because Bobby's asleep. I blink at him. _What a relief!_ _Saved by the bell_. _Now I don't have to talk about my swim, or prison, or any of it. I can just go to sleep_. 

I feel a wave of relief.

__

I know I'm just putting off the inevitable. I know I've gotta tell him, and soon. _But not just now…._ _And that's okay by me. I'm really, really tired. Ready to crash_. I settle down beside him as quietly as I can, grateful that I won't have to answer any more questions about prison. _At least, not tonight_. _I have this feeling Bobby won't let it go, though. He's like that. We don't call him the little tiger for nothing. He's tenacious as a tiger, when he gets his teeth into something. Especially when it has to do with me._

I reach over and turn out his little bedside lamp again. _Bobby must be really exhausted_, I think. _Not only did he conk out again while I was in the shower, but he even fell asleep with the light on. _Knowing that makes me feel oddly tender, because I know he wore himself out for me.

I remember how he came after me. _Half a mile or more out in the ocean, in the dark. I still don't even have a clue how he found me! He'll probably never tell me; but it was amazing_. _Bobby's just -- amazing. All that protectiveness, all that drive, intensity and loyalty, focused on me._ _Maybe I should call him Mom, instead of little tiger_. I feel myself smiling.

When my eyes adjust to the darkness again, I look over at Hobbes. He's lying on his side facing me, like he fell asleep waiting for me to come out of the shower. He's wearing pajamas, but the top's not buttoned, so I can see his chest. It looks strong. Muscular. Really sexy._ I wanna touch it. _Aroused, I almost reach out and do it. But then I look at his face. _He looks as tired as I do. Even though he's asleep, I can see hints of strain around his eyes. I know they're because of me._

So I don't caress him. But God, I want to. This familiar ache settles in, way down deep in my chest. _I feel so much. Whenever I look at him, whenever I think about him. It's crazy, I never expected it, but it's there. Still … it's dangerous, to feel that much for someone. I know that. For years, I didn't let myself care about anyone that much. But Bobby… he just got past me somehow. He got inside me, and now I can't get him out. _

I don't even want to. Even though that's why I wound up out in the Pacific, in the middle of the night. Remembering that swim still scares me. _But I'd do it again if I had to, to save Bobby. _

But only if I had to. I don't wanna kill myself anymore. I don't wanna have to leave him. I wanna find a way that I can be with him, but still make sure he's safe. That's what it all comes down to, for me. That's what I want: to be with Bobby, but keep him safe. _There's gotta be a way…._

It hits me that I've come a long way from the selfish, thoughtless guy I used to be. _A long way, down a really strange road. Some of it's been pure hell. But it hasn't been all bad, 'cause look where I wound up._ _Next to Bobby Hobbes. In love with him. _I watch him sleeping, and emotion fills me up. I feel it beating inside me, like this giant heart. "Bobby," I whisper. 

He stirs a little. But he doesn't wake up, and I know he needs his sleep, so I don't say it again. For awhile, I just lie there in the dark, watching him sleep. But it gets to be like torture. _It's just not enough_. _I wanna be closer to him. I want…._ _I know I shouldn't do this, but what the hell. That's never stopped me before_. 

I swallow hard, and take a risk. I edge over to him, quiet as I can, and touch his shoulder lightly, to see how deep he's sleeping. He lets out this little sigh and turns over onto his back, but he still doesn't wake up. 

__

He must be tired, if even that didn't wake him. He usually wakes up instantly, if I touch him when he's asleep. But not this time. So he's really out. Good.

I move over a little more. Just enough so that I can lay my head on his chest, and put my arm around his waist. I do it lightly, slowly, so he won't wake up. I know I'm stealing this embrace, that Bobby's unaware of it, but I don't care. _I'm a thief, after all. It's what I do_. _Besides, it's just for now_, I tell myself. _Just for a little while, while he's asleep. I'll let go when he wakes up. Move away. But for now, I need this…. And what Bobby doesn't know, won't hurt him_, I think, with a lump in my throat.

I lay my head in the hollow of his shoulder and hold him gently. Bobby draws a deep breath, then relaxes again. His breathing goes back to that slow, sleepy rhythm, and he doesn't move. _I did it! Got next to him without waking him, like a good little thief. _I close my eyes. _Mm, this feels good_. I can feel the warmth of his skin, feel his strong, solid body under me. A wave of contentment flows through me. _It's amazing, how such a little thing can go so deep. Maybe it's because I came so close to the brink tonight, I don't know._

Whatever the reason, holding him feels incredibly good. Eyes closed, I listen to the soft thumping in Bobby's chest. The sound of his fierce, loyal heart, beating steadily under my cheek while he sleeps. It's wonderful. It makes me feel safe. Peaceful. I haven't felt that in a long time. Not in so many years that safety seems like a luxury to me now. So does closeness. And it isn't his high-tech security system that makes me feel protected, either. It's Hobbes who makes me feel safe. Bobby who gives me that, and I'm grateful. 

__

I'm where I wanted to be now. Close to Bobby.

Got a feeling I won't have any more bad dreams tonight….

Maybe I'll even tell him about that dream. About prison. About my swim, too. Gotta tell him why I did it. Soon….

I breathe in Bobby's scent. Drink in his warmth. Feel my heart settle into a rhythm with his, as peace settles over me like a blanket. _I wonder how I ever lived without this. Without him. I don't wanna let go of him, ever again._

Even though I know I have to. That when he wakes up, I'll have to….

No, the stubborn, greedy, thief part of me says_. Nevernevernever!_

I hold onto Bobby, wishing it could be like that as I drift off.

***************************

I wake up while it's still dark. Well, I almost wake up. My eyes open, but I'm not there yet. I usually snap awake in seconds -- the legacy of half a life spent in dangerous jobs, where that ability can mean the difference between life and death. But I feel foggy now. _Can't focus_. _The pills_, I think dizzily. _I took pills earlier_…. 

__

Something's wrong! There's this warm, heavy weight almost covering me. _I'm not alone._ _Someone's lying on top of me! Fuck! How'd that happen? Who is it? Viv? No, she's gone… _But my mind's still so foggy with sleep and my meds that I can't remember getting in bed with anyone else, either. I don't remember it, period.

I feel a surge of panic. Before I can wake up, get my mind working, old reflexes kick in. My whole body tenses, and I start measuring the threat. _The person on top of me's big. Bigger 'n me. Heavy. Muscular. So it's probably a guy._ I almost roll whoever it is over, so I can get him into a choke-hold. But those same old reflexes stop me. _That could be dangerous. Whoever he is, he could be armed. _So I reach up carefully. Slowly, silently, without taking my eyes off the dark shape on top of me, and I fumble for a minute until I find my little bedside lamp. I turn it on, poised to pounce if the intruder so much as twitches when the light comes on. 

But he doesn't. He just lies there. _Good thing too, 'cause he's probably half a foot taller 'n me._ But I can't see his face from this angle, just the top of his head. For a chilling second, I think, _He's dead. Did I kill him?_ _Why don't I remember doing it?_

Then I realize, the guy on top of me hasn't croaked. He's just sleeping with his head on my chest. He must be, because he's still warm. He's not cold like a corpse, and now that the light's on, I can see his back rising and falling as he breathes. As I watch him, I realize there's something familiar about his back, about his big, muscular body. Something familiar in a good way. 

__

Whoever this is, I know him. I like him. He's not a threat…. 

The lethal edge to my tension ebbs away. I'm relieved, but even more confused and surprised. _Why is a guy in bed with me?_ I study his dark head. His muscular arm, that's stretched out across my waist. His thick, damp, curly hair. _Who is_ --

It's the hair that does it. The sight of all that wild, unruly hair cuts right through the haze of weariness in my head. The fog of sleep and medication finally lifts, and I snap fully awake as memory comes rushing back. _Fawkes._ _Of course, it's Darien! Darien Fawkes. My partner, Mr. Hair. It's okay._

I close my eyes, let out a breath as the fear subsides, and my heart rate slows. I look down at Fawkes again, wondering if I'm dreaming this. I even blink, but he still doesn't disappear. He's got his head on my chest, and his arm around me. What's even stranger, my right arm's wrapped around him, too. _How the hell did that happen_? _I should be weirded out_. _I mean, I've got a guy in my bed! My own partner. We've got our arms around each other._ But it doesn't feel weird. In fact, just for a second, I feel this little thrill. _How'd he get here? Did we --?_

What the hell happened tonight? 

I search my memory, and slowly, things start to come back. _Fawkes freaked out, and went swimming. I brought him back. We couldn't sleep, so I brought him in here. Then he had a nightmare, and he took a shower…. That's all I remember. I don't remember Darien getting back into bed, so he must've done that after I went back to sleep. Guess I must've dozed off while he was in the bathroom_. 

Anyhow, there's no sex involved. No sex anywhere in those memories. Not even a hint of it_. And I'd sure as hell remember that. _

So, we didn't fuck. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed. Maybe both. _Wonder how we ended up together like this, though? Was it by accident, or did he do this on purpose? Hug me while I was asleep? There's no way to tell. Fawkes is asleep now, sound asleep._ _Guess I could wake him up and ask him, but … after the night he had, and that frigging nightmare on top of it, I probably shouldn't. Besides, maybe he just rolled up against me accidentally, in his sleep. Probably doesn't even know he did it._

Then again, he did the same thing in the car. Draped himself all over me while he was asleep. But he wasn't snoozing after, when he climbed into bed and held my hand…. I smile to myself. _Who'd've thunk it? Never would've pegged Fawkes for the touchy/feely type, awake or asleep_. _Until tonight, that is._ _Learned a lotta stuff about him tonight that I never knew before -- including that. _

I think back on what I know about Fawkes' early life._ Dad left when he was five. Then his mom died, too. So he and Kevin were abandoned, big time, when they were really little. Raised by his aunt and uncle. Wonder if the way he likes to touch and hug has something to do with that? Wonder if he didn't get enough of that, enough physical affection, when he was a kid?_

Could be. Then again, could be that he's just a sensual bastard. 

Either way, now that I know he's like that, I'm not sure I mind. 

I think back through all of it. All the times we touched tonight -- that little kiss on the beach, holding Fawkes while he cried, the way he slept on my shoulder in the car, and having him in my arms now -- and I didn't really mind any of it. 

__

Hell, I liked it. Every minute of it. I'm loving this, too.

__

It's kinda weird, 'cause I don't usually like to be touched. I like my space, my own personal space. Years of martial arts practice kinda makes you hyper aware of that. I like people to keep their distance. Most people, anyway. Except for women, of course. With sex, that's different. Viv wasn't much of a cuddler, though. Didn't like me to hold onto her after we made love. But I've been with women before her who did, and I liked it. 

Never imagined cuddling with a guy, though. 

But here I am, doing it. Liking it. I don't mind Darien touching me. Don't mind having him in my space, in my arms, or in my bed. Actually, now that I think about it, the kid's been in my space for awhile. He tends to stick close by me, right by my side, and it's never bothered me. Huh. Funny. Besides, I've been holding him and kissing him in my dreams. So I guess you could say I've been practicing for this. Maybe that's why this feels all right. 

More than all right. It feels good.

It surprises me, just how good it feels. So for a few minutes, I just lie there, getting used to holding Fawkes in my arms while he sleeps. _It feels almost -- I dunno. Like I should be paying for the privilege, or something. It's a luxury, having the wild child safe and sound here with me. It's almost too good to be true. And the way he's sleeping all curled around me…._

It just gets to me. _The trust in it. The pure, bone-deep trust he has for me. It's like he trusts me to look after him, not to hurt him, even when he's at his most vulnerable. Even when he's asleep_. It's pretty amazing that he can trust another guy like that, after what he must've gone through in prison.

That thought makes me wince, so I shove it away. _Don't wanna think about that now…. I've got enough on my mind right now, without worrying about what being in prison did to Darien. We'll have to talk about that later. _

I can't stop thinking about Darien, though.

__

He's quiet for once. It's kinda nice. 

I realize, there's some advantages to this_. Since I woke up first, I get to stroke him, kiss him, whatever I want… Get to check Darien out, without his smart mouth getting in the way_. _Without him teasing me. I can take my time. Hold him and look at him, without getting razzed about it_. 

So I do. I watch him sleep for a minute, smiling down at the thick tangle of his hair. _He must've washed it, 'cause it's not stiff and salty anymore. It's clean. Shiny. Beautiful._ _Thick and dark and wild, just like him._ I get this urge to touch it again. Run my fingers through it.

__

Don't. He's asleep. That wouldn't be right.

But I can't help myself. _Kid's hair would tempt a frickin' saint -- and I ain't no saint_. So I indulge myself. I raise my left arm, the one that's not holding him, and gently, lightly touch his hair. It's silky. Soft. Still a bit damp from the shower. I play with it for a minute, then pull my hand back, afraid I'll wake him up. He doesn't move, though. So I do it again. _Who knows? I may never get another chance_.

First I just touched it. This time, I stroke it. Let my hand linger on it. I pet him, pet all that soft, wild hair. It feels good. Silky. Sexy. It makes me smile, 'cause I've been wanting to do this for a long time. I start stroking it, like you'd pet a cat.

Fawkes makes a soft, contented sound, deep in his throat. Then his eyes flutter open. "Bobby?"

__

Aw, crap. _That did it! I woke him up_. Darien's dark head lifts, and my heart skips a beat. I jerk my hand back fast. Heat rushes to my face, and I don't know what the hell to say to him. I feel like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In his partner's cookie jar. While his partner was asleep.

Fawkes isn't embarrassed at all. Of course. Doesn't seem like he's freaked out by his nightmare anymore, either. In fact, he seems totally at ease. He sets his chin on my chest, and gives me this sleepy grin. "Morning, beautiful."

"Aw geez." I roll my eyes, completely embarrassed. _He's nuts! He's the one who's beautiful, not me._ _He's got those big, dark eyes like warm chocolate. High cheekbones. Full, curvy, sensual lips. His hair's tousled from my petting, so it's not spiky now, it's curling around his face. But even mussed up, he's still gorgeous. He looks young. So young. Like a surfer, like one of those surfer boys you see in those ads for Sex Wax. Aw crap, why'd I have to think of that?_ _Why is it that I can't even think about Fawkes, without thinking about sex?_

__

Stupid question. And it's not something I want him to know, either. He's way too cocky as it is. So I try to distract him. "It's not quite morning yet, pal. It's barely even started to get light out."

He ignores that. "Whatcha doin'?" he asks, his brown eyes wide. The picture of sweet innocence.

If you didn't know him better, that is. But I do, and I can see it in his eyes. _The wickedness. That evil little twinkle Darien always gets, when he's teasing someone_. _He knows exactly what I was doing, and why. He knows I was caressing him, getting off on touching his hair. And judging by his expression, he was liking it, too. But he's gotta torture me anyway. Try to make me admit it. Darien, the Sex Wax kid._

I know this game. Boy, do I know it! It's Fawkes's favorite thing. But I don't feel like playing right now, so I shake my head. "Don't start with me, Fawkes."

But he doesn't listen. He pulls himself up next to me, so that his head's on a level with mine. Raises himself up on an elbow, looks down at me and smiles with that same wide-eyed, innocent look again. "Don't start what, Hobbesy?" 

__

Hobbesy. I should sock him, right on that pretty jaw. But I don't, because he's so good looking, and because he smells good, too_. Like soap, shampoo, water and bare skin. He's warm. Muscular. Handsome…. I can think of a lot more interesting things to do to him than hit him._ Those things fill my head, until my heart's beating fast and it's hard to think. 

Fawkes is so good-looking, so inviting that this little voice in the back of my mind starts to doubt what's happening. I look at how he's smiling, how he's teasing me, and it whispers, _Guy with hair like that, eyes like that -- why would he want you? He's playing with you_. _Just playing, that's all_. _Like he always does_. _Because you're here, and because you're safe. This doesn't really mean anything to him…._

That hurts. Jerks a response out of me, before I can stop it. "Don't tease me, Fawkes," I grate, my voice suddenly harsh. "Don't!"

Darien freezes. His smile disappears. He reaches over and gently, really gently, touches my face. "I'm not. This isn't --" For once, he's the one who's at a loss for words. "I'm not playing with you, Bobby," he says, and his voice is raw now, too. 

I don't know what to say. _I wanna believe him, but I don't know if I can_. _Not about this_….

Fawkes bites his lip and draws his hand back. Pulls it away from my face like he thinks I didn't want him touching me. Pain bleeds into his eyes. Pain that's stark and real. 

In that second, I know I was wrong. _Oh shit._ _Me and my big mouth!_ _He really meant it. He does want me! He wasn't kidding, wasn't playing around._ _I was wrong, and I freaked him out. Again. _My heart turns over. 

Darien's face tightens, and he lowers his head, averting his eyes. "I know I don't -- I'm not …" He breaks off, runs a hand through his hair, his face tightening. He sits up, agitated. "Aw, crap. Shit, I shouldn't even be here!" he says thickly, and he's got this guilty, you-deserve-better look on his face. 

__

This is what I get for being paranoid, for listening to that goddamn voice inside that always thinks the worst about everything -- and everyone. 

__

I just wanted Fawkes to be honest, but instead, I opened a wound. I can see it. _He looks desperate. Almost sick all of a sudden. Like he did down on the beach. Dunno why, but it's obvious my question made him feel like shit. What the hell shredded his self confidence so bad that he thinks it's a mistake even to be with someone who's short and bald, like me?_ _Did the damn gland do this?_

"Hey, hey!" I gentle my voice, reach out and touch him just as gently. Trying to calm him down, trying to make up for somehow hurting him. "What're you talkin' about? I didn't mean --"

Darien doesn't react to my caress. He just shakes his head, staring down at the blanket. His throat works, like he's almost choking. "I just -- I'm like that sign by the stairs. By the beach, you know?" He sounds scared, like he's almost panicking.

I shake my head, even more confused. _What the hell's he talking about?_ I remember there was a sign by the stairs at Black's, but I ran by it so fast chasing after him that I never even noticed what it said. "No. Darien, what --"

"Unsafe. Unstable! That's what it said!" he bursts out. "And that's what I am! I'm the last person who should try to get close to anyone. I know that, but I can't -- I can't…."

"Leave?" I finish for him, my own voice unsteady now. "Is that what you're trying to say? You think you should leave? For my sake?"

"Yeah." He sounds miserable. Even humiliated. When he nods, he avoids my eyes.

__

I was right -- it's the Quicksilver madness! His demon. That's what's getting to him! Wondered if that had something to do with his midnight swim. Now I know. Sorry I made him feel insecure, but at least I finally got a hint what his problem is. _I was starting to wonder if he was ever gonna tell me. _

Then I remember my terrible suspicion, down on the beach. That it wasn't just doing violence in general when he goes mad that was bugging Darien. It was the fact that he hurt me in particular that really got to him, that sent him into the ocean. For a second, I almost ask him if that's it. If I was right. _But he's so upset, I'm afraid if I push, it'll drive him away before he even really gets started talking about his suicide attempt._

"Well, I don't. I don't want you to go," I say quickly. "That's not what I meant --"

Darien just shakes his head. He turns like he's gonna climb out of bed. I feel a stab of pain. I grab his arm, and hold on tight enough to stop him. "Darien, hey. Don't talk like that, all right? You don't have to leave."

He tries to shake me off, but I won't let him. I hold on stubbornly. He finally raises his head to look at me, and his eyes are still dark with pain. "It's true!" he hisses, his voice shaking. "You know it! I get crazy, I go nuts. You know that! I'm evil, Hobbes! _Evil_!"

__

Christ. I've never seen him like this before. The note of rising hysteria in his voice shakes me, but I don't let it show. "Wait a minute! Hold on, there! You're not evil, okay? That's a bunch o' crap!"

"It's true!"

"No, it ain't!"

"_Yes it is_!" he hisses, his eyes wide and wild. "I can't be trusted, Hobbes! I tried to kill you! Remember? You shouldn't even let me near you! Don't you know that?"

He's really starting to scare me. "Shut up! Just shut up! Don't gimme that bullshit, Fawkes!_ That's the gland in your head! It ain't YOU!" _I yell, shaking him hard.

I've never done that to him before. It finally gets to him. Breaks through his fog of hurt and self pity, and shocks him into momentary silence. He blinks at me, his chest heaving, his eyes full of hurt and despair, and I try like hell to figure out what to say next. How to calm him down, get him off this self pity kick.

__

All I know is, this has gotta stop. It doesn't even matter if it's me, or hurting people in general that's making him crazy. Either way, it's gone too far. This is worse than self pity, it's turned into self hatred; and he's wallowing in it. Focusing on it to the point where he can't see straight. Time for some shock treatment. 

I narrow my eyes, make my voice hard and cold. "You think we're so different, Gland Boy? You think you can't be trusted, but I can?"

That shocks him so much that he stops trying to pull away, and gives me this confused look. "What do you -- of course! I trust you with my life, Bobby! You know that!"

"You know what I mean, kid!" I growl, unrelenting. "You think I take Zoloft for fun? Think I ended up at the Agency by accident?"

Darien lowers his head. A dull flush stains his cheeks, and he doesn't answer. 

__

He doesn't wanna talk about this. Tough shit -- he's gonna have to. I gotta keep at him. I'll find out how much his self hatred has to do with me later. For now, I just wanna make him stop this. Stop running off every time I hurt him, and most of all, stop hating himself so much that he wants to die. I tighten my grip on his arm, and shake him again. Not so hard this time, just enough to let him know I'm serious. "You think you got a corner on crazy, Fawkes? Huh?"

He stays silent, and I can still feel the darkness in him. _Don't think I'm getting through to him. He's wavering, hovering on the edge of another breakdown_. _I'm afraid he still might give in completely to fear and self pity, and take off on me. Do something stupid again. Maybe even something fatal, this time._ _Goddamn stubborn kid! What's it gonna take?_

Finally, Fawkes answers. "No," he mutters. 

__

But I can tell he's lying. _So, I was right! He hasn't really been thinking about my problems at all. Or maybe he just hasn't got a clue how bad they are. Or else he's slipped into some kinda fantasy, some kinda hero worship thing where he doesn't see 'em at all._ _Jesus! He's gotta be far gone, if he's started kiddin' himself about me. Idolizing me or something. That's gotta stop, too. He's gotta face up to the truth about both of us, if he's gonna make it. If we are…._

He doesn't answer me, so I keep going. _"_Think you're the only one in this bed who's got problems? Is that what you think, Fawkes?"

Finally, Darien swallows hard, and shakes his head. He sneaks a peek at me from under his long lashes, and I see real remorse in his eyes. His face loses its half-crazed look. His eyes soften, and it's like I can see his inner focus changing. See it center around me now, instead of him. And that does just what I hoped it would. I feel the tension drain out of the arm I'm holding, see the craziness, the desperation leave his face. "No," he says quietly at last. "I know things aren't easy for you either, Bobby. I know that."

__

Ha. He doesn't know the half of it! Still, that's not entirely his fault. I've never told him how bad it is. If anything, I've hidden most of it from him, because I didn't want him to feel sorry for me. So I let that slide_._ "Okay then. That's the good news -- you're not alone in that. In case you haven't noticed, you're not the only headcase here."

Fawkes just nods. "So you're saying, if I'm Frankenstein, you're Igor?"

I smile. "Somethin' like that."

But I can't let it go at that. I take a deep breath, 'cause that was the easy part. Getting him to see past himself. This is the tough part. "But here's the bad news, Fawkesy. Sometimes, you just gotta do the best you can with the cards you get dealt, my friend. Even if they suck, even if you think there's no way you can win, you gotta keep playing."

He shakes his head. "Don't you think I've tried?" 

He sounds bitter, but I don't back down. "Not hard enough, Fawkesy. Look -- we're partners. We're friends, right? You're supposed to trust me. Come to me when you need help. You don't have to get through stuff all alone. But you tried to off yourself, without even tellin' me how bad things were. Didn't you?" I hold his gaze until he flushes again, and looks away.

He shrugs, a little sullen. "I tried to tell you, but you didn't wanna hear it."

I wince a little. "Okay, I admit, maybe I missed some signals. I thought you were makin' a pass --"

"I was," he admits, with a small, reluctant smile.

It's my turn to shake my head. "Way to go, Fawkes. That's thinkin' with your dick."

He shoots me this glance that's sullen and smoldering, all at once. "Well, in case you haven't noticed," he shoots back, "you're hot, Hobbesy. I got distracted. So sue me!"

That gets to me. Even in the middle of this, I feel this surge of heat down below my belt, at the look in his eyes, at hearing him say he thinks I'm hot. But unlike the kid, I don't let that get in the way of what I'm trying to do here. "You couldn't've just told me? If you'd said, "'Hey, Hobbes, I'm depressed. I feel so bad I wanna drown myself,' you think I'd've thrown you out?"

Fawkes heaves a sigh, and shakes his head. "No."

"Okay then. Next time, spell it out for me, wouldja? I mean, I know we're partners and we're on the same wavelength, but I can't always read your devious little criminal mind there, Fawkesy," I tease him, trying to lighten things up a bit. 

He smiles a little. "Okay. I hear ya."

Good. I have this deep sense of relief, that we finally got that out in the open. And maybe even settled. But we're not quite done yet. I still have something important to tell him, and he probably won't wanna hear it. "The thing is, Fawkes -- if I can live with bein' less than perfect, then you're gonna have to, too." 

The smile fades from his face. "I guess."

"Damn right, my friend. But it doesn't have to be this bad. I'll help you, okay? I'll find a way to make things better. I promise."

He swallows hard, but then he nods. Reaches out and touches my arm for a second. "Okay. Thanks, man." 

I finally relax again, for the first time since he started spouting off about being evil. _That's better_, I think. I loosen my tight, bruising grip on his arm. I stroke him lightly instead, like you'd soothe a frightened animal. _Easy, big guy. Easy_…. I search his eyes. He looks better. Not so sick, not so scared now. But he's still avoiding my eyes, so I know he's not completely out of the woods yet. And I think I know what's still bothering him.

So I switch tactics. Time for an apology. I say softly, "I'm sorry I said you were playing, before. I know you're not." I swallow hard, wondering why this is so hard to say. "I'm not either, Darien."

Darien just nods, but the tightness in his face eases a little more. 

__

So far, so good, I think. "Maybe neither of us are gonna win any Sanity awards. Maybe we're both freaks. But we're doin' the best we can, right?" I stroke his arm gently, waiting with bated breath, knowing he still hasn't made up his mind about this yet. About us. He could still flip out. Change his mind, and decide to leave me. "Right?"

Finally, Darien lifts his head again. And this time, there's the hint of a smile in his eyes. "Yeah. You're right. We may be freaks, but we're out there swinging."

I nod, relieved. Finally, I let him go, knowing he finally turned the corner. Somewhere inside, my little Fawkes sensors, that've gotten so sharp lately, tell me that we just left the danger zone. _He decided to stay. Better yet, he decided not to give up on himself. _"Damn right! And we got each other. You know that too, right?"

This time, Darien doesn't hesitate. The pain starts to fade from his eyes. They warm up, and he smiles, really smiles at me. "Yeah. Oh yeah."

I let out the breath I was holding. Finally, all my hesitation, all my worries, go out the window. 

__

It's time. I know it. I feel it. _He decided to stay, decided not to give up on himself; and he needs me. I need him, too. Man, do we need each other_. Suddenly, nothing else matters. I just want him, more than anything. I grab his arm again, and pull him towards me. "Okay then. Get down here, ya big freak." 

I pull Darien down on top of me. Down, so I can feel his heart beating fast, too fast, like mine is. Down, while I smile up into his surprised eyes. Down, so I can kiss him again, like I did on the beach.

But I feel awkward. Excited, but scared. Still a little tense from our confrontation just now. Plus, this is the first time I've ever had a big, hot guy in my bed. And I want him, but it's just -- different. I'm about to cross a very big line, and I get a little nervous. Forget my own strength, and pull him down a bit too hard. Darien kind of crashes into me, and our noses bump.

"Ouch…" Darien pulls back reflexively. He rubs his nose, smiling, and my heart hits the floor. _Oh, shit. He's laughing at me! _It's my worst nightmare, come true. _I don't know how to do this. I'm screwing it up! This was a mistake --_

I'm so embarrassed, I wish the floor would open up and swallow me. _Aw, crap_. _I can't take this!_

"Sorry," I mutter. With a muffled curse, I let him go. Try to move, to pull away, get out from under him. But Darien catches me this time. Grabs my shoulders and shifts his weight instinctively, to keep me pinned down. "No, wait! Hey there, little tiger," he says softly. "Take it easy." 

Now the tables are turned. This time, it's Darien who's keeping me from leaving. Despite his slender build, he's strong, and between his grip and his weight on top of me, I'd have to really fight him to get free. After so many years of hand-to-hand, I can judge that kind of equation to a tee. Though I know I could do it, and it pisses me off that he won't let go, I'm not mad enough about it to want to hurt him to get loose, either. So I give in. Stop struggling and look up at him instead, readying myself for disappointment. Dreading the derision I expect to see in his eyes. _I just blew it, and being Darien, now he's gonna tease me about it. Well, at least it'll give me an excuse to pull away when he's done_, I think bleakly. 

To my surprise, though, Darien's not laughing. "You just caught me by surprise there. No big deal." He smiles down at me, but it's not a mocking smile. It's warm and real. "Bobby," he says, so soft that it's like a caress. Then he lowers his head again, until our lips are just touching. "We can take it slower," he whispers against my mouth. "Slow can be good.…" He closes his eyes and kisses me. Lightly, gently, slowly. 

Funny, but it's not so much his gentleness that puts me at ease, it's the hunger behind it. What he's holding back. I can feel his heart beating, thudding against his ribs. I can feel how much he wants me, and that tells me he's not just playing around. _I was worrying for nothing_. I feel a surge of relief. _This is gonna be okay. All I haveta do is relax. Relax and go with it…._ So I try. I reach up and touch him. Put my hands on his shoulders and stroke him while we kiss. 

Darien draws in a deep, shaky breath, and his heart goes even faster. His kisses get more urgent. His warm, wet tongue traces over my lips. _Let me in_, that tongue says. _Give me more…._

And I do. Without even thinking about it, I open up for him. Darien's tongue slides into my mouth just as my hands slide into his hair. I gasp at the twin sensations: cool, damp silk under my hands, and hot, probing silk in my mouth. _Oh Christ, it's so good_. I move my hands through his hair, that wild mass of hair that I was just petting. It's thick and soft, just like it was in my dreams. _It feels fucking wonderful._ I dive deep into it, wind it around my fingers, caress it while we kiss. 

Darien must like that, because he moans. This low, deep sound that's almost a purr. I move my fingers in little circles, massaging his head, and the moans get louder. I smile. _Guess playing with his hair turns him on. Good, 'cause I love touching it…. _

Before I know it, my heart is racing, and I'm moaning too. I'm riding a wave of pleasure so sudden and sharp, I almost come right there. Just from hearing him moan with pleasure, just from kissing him and touching his hair. _I can't believe it. _It's the first time in my life I've ever made a guy moan like that -- and it gets me where I live. Sends a thrill through me that's stronger than anything I ever felt before. This massive surge of desire, that makes me feel like I'm on fire. 

__

I knew it'd be like this with him. I knew it when we kissed, down on the beach. It's like this is what I've always wanted, and I just never knew it till now.

I wanna be on him. In him. 

The need's so sudden, so fierce, so new and overwhelming that it scares me. So does Fawkes, because at that same instant, I feel his hands moving over my chest. I feel cold air there, then on my shoulders, and I realize he's pulling the top of my p.j's off. And even though I already decided it was time to do this, it feels weird. _I feel like I should be stripping him. Then again, does it matter?_

Yeah. It does. Everything about this matters. He matters, so much that I can't screw this up.

Feeling confused, like I'm about to explode, I break the kiss. Tear my mouth away and drag in deep breaths. Darien doesn't protest, doesn't ask what's wrong, but he lets go of my pajamas. "Too fast?" he asks, in a low voice. His breathing is as unsteady as mine.

__

He always knows. What I'm thinking, what I'm feeling… . And that scares me, and thrills me, as much as the rest of it. "Yeah. I just --" I can't find the words. Hell, I can't even get my breath. _It's too much, too fucking fast. Too much that should be freakin' weird, but that feels way too good. I can't think. Feel like I'm falling. Feel like --_

I haven't felt this way in years. Not since Viv-- 

I feel threatened suddenly; and not just by Fawkes's big, undeniably hard male body. I feel battered by blows I didn't expect. Blows to the heart that Darien doesn't even know he's dealing. 

__

Fuck! I gotta stop for a second. I pull away from him. Out of his embrace_. _This time, he doesn't try to stop me. Feeling weird, feeling oddly naked, I button my pajama top back up again. 

"Bobby --"

I shake my head. Get up out of bed, still trying to calm my breathing. My pounding heart.

Darien's face falls. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean --"

"Don't say that," I tell him. "Don't! I'm not sorry." _I'm not sure what I am. Confused. Excited. Turned on, oh yeah. Way more than I expected. Scared, too. But I'm not sorry. Don't want him to be, either._

Darien looks confused. "Then why --?"

I shake my head. No way can I explain this to him, this cascade of conflicting feelings. This battle going on inside me, between memory and desire. Between fear, and the need to get close to someone. _I'm sure Darien's got no idea how I feel. 'Cause he's been here before. He's been with guys, he knows the territory. Besides, he never met an impulse he didn't like. I'm not like that. I can't be that loose. I gotta go a little slower. Think it through_. "I just need some time," I say desperately. "A few minutes."

Time to fight the battle. Win the war, or lose it. Time to _decide_. 

"Okay," Darien says, but I know him. I know when he's lying. _This isn't okay. Not with him. He thinks it's his fault. He doesn't understand how it is for me. That I can't just jump into this with him. That it's not just another fuck. There's nothing casual about it, and I gotta figure out if I can really do that_. _If I can take what might happen after_…. _If he can, too. _

I turn and look at him, and his head's hanging. _How can I ask for a time-out in a way that won't hurt him? _I wrack my brain for an excuse. "I just need to take a shower. Five minutes, okay? I just … feel dirty. Funky. I got sand all over me."

Darien gives me this look: a raised eyebrow, a skeptical gaze I know all too well_. _

I groan silently_. He's so smart, I should've known better than to feed him a half truth anyway. I should've known he'd know. _So I quit stalling. Take a step closer, and tell him the truth. "Come on, Darien. I just want a few minutes to think. That's all."

I hold my breath. He's so impulsive, I half expect him to blow up. Tell me to go to hell. Say something like, "If you've gotta think about it, you obviously don't want me. So I'm outta here!" But to my surprise, he doesn't get angry. He just nods. But he's looking down again, not meeting my eyes. And he's quiet. Way too quiet. That makes me nervous. 

I go back to the bed. Bend over and kiss him. At first, he doesn't respond. But then, almost like it's against his will, his mouth warms and moves against mine. His arms come up, and wind around my neck. "Five minutes," I breathe against his lips. "And if you're not right here when I get back, I'll hunt ya down, like I said. Got it?"

That does it. Finally, Darien looks at me again and smiles. "Got it."

But when I try to straighten up again, he holds onto my neck. He lays his forehead against mine, like he did on the beach. "Okay. Five minutes, partner," he says softly. "And if you're not out by then … I'll hunt _you_ down."

Then he lets go, and I head for the bathroom. "Sounds like a threat," I say over my shoulder.

Darien grins. "Oh, believe me -- it is."

*************************

__

Five minutes. Bobby said, five minutes. I tried to smile at him when he went into the bathroom, tried to act confident, but that was just an act. Inside, I'm scared _. First I was freaking, but he got me through that -- and now he's the one who's freaking! Shit. I don't understand. Why now, just when things were getting good? _I'm afraid of what that means. _I thought he liked me kissing him, but maybe not. _

That five minutes is gonna feel like forever. Already does, and it hasn't even been -- I look over at his clock. _It hasn't even been one minute yet! Great_.

I hear the sound of water, of the shower turning on, and I think about Bobby standing under it. Bobby naked. That makes me hot, all over again. I swallow hard. _I didn't need him to take a shower. I wouldn't've cared if he hadn't gotten clean first, before we made love. He felt good to me. He smelled good, too. Like sweat and sand and something else that's just him. His skin's so incredible -- so warm and brown, and wow, then there's his muscles._

__

God, _I want him._ It cuts through me, this wave of desire that's so hot, so deep it hurts. _I want him so much, whenever he touches me, I feel like I'm gonna come out of my skin. Like I can hardly breathe_. _I need him_. 

I can feel my heart beating too fast, feel an aching in my chest. _Please, don't let him pull away. Don't let him back out on me. Not now. If he does that -- if he says no again…. It might not kill me, but I know I'll wish I was dead._

I think about that dream again, my damn nightmare, and my fear rises. _He said he had to take a shower because he felt dirty. I thought he meant because of the sand we got all over us at the beach. But what if it was something else? What if it was me? Is that why he's in there? Because of what they did to me in prison? Is he revolted because I didn't wake up in time to let go of him, and he found an ex-con holding him when he woke up? Is he disgusted? Or afraid that I might have AIDS? Is that what he's scared of? Please, no. Don't let it be that!_

But it could be. I know it could, and anxiety starts to tie my stomach into knots. 

__

Bobby's a neat freak, and he's paranoid anyway. I can see him being totally freaked out by the thought of disease. Especially AIDS. Does he really think I'd do that to him, though? That I'd expose him, if I had it? In any case, I don't. I'm sure, because my Keeper tests me for it periodically. I could tell him that, but would he believe me?

The more I think about it, the more fears flood my mind. One leads to another. They crowd in on me, shadowy, gray, multiplying by the minute. _Bobby could be afraid of my demon, too. Or he could be dealing with some problem of his own, that I don't even know about._ _The point is, he's got lots of reasons to say no. He could come out of there in five minutes and tell me this is all wrong. That I misunderstood him, and that he doesn't wanna have sex with me, or even kiss me again. Ever. He could say this was all a mistake._

That thought makes me feel sick. Helpless. _Maybe I should tell him the truth about what happened in San Quentin. Give him some details. Maybe it'd help him understand, if I explain to him about the dream. Tell him that I couldn't help it._ _There were seven of them, a whole gang -- I couldn't defend myself. Nobody could have, not against all of them. That's why they did it like that, the bastards. So no one could stand up to them, or stop them. _

But the thought of telling him that almost chokes me. I've held that nightmare inside for years. Maybe too long. I'm not sure I could let it out now, not even to Bobby.

__

I wanna tell him that it wasn't my fault. That _I hated it. That it was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I was in the infirmary for almost two weeks, after. It almost killed me_…. But I can't say it. _It wouldn't do me any good now anyway._ _Since Bobby's in the shower, he wouldn't even hear me._ _I had my chance to tell him before, and I blew it._

I bite my lip. _Five minutes_, _he said_. I look over at the clock. _It's only been two now. Shit! I can't stand this!_

I get up and pace. I can't sit still. _This waiting is making me come unglued_. I tell myself, _This is crazy._ _You're just being paranoid. He's not gonna reject you, he's just taking a break. He's never done this before, and he got nervous. That's all. It's understandable. But Bobby wouldn't turn me away now, wouldn't back out on me like that now, not when we're so close….. He wouldn't judge me, either. Won't reject me for something I couldn't help._

But part of me knows that's not entirely true. Not about Bobby, or me, either. _The first time I went to prison, I couldn't help it. But the last time, when I was with Garrett … that was different. Or was it? It was all about survival. That's what prison's about: surviving. But how could I ever make Bobby understand that? He's never been there. He can't know what it's like. _

I'm up against a wall, and I know it. _The cold, hard truth is, Bobby could judge me. He could reject me, too. He wouldn't be the first. I've seen that look a hundred times. A thousand. In the eyes of almost everyone I met after my first stretch in prison -- including my own brother. Even Kevin never looked at me the same after that. He didn't just see it as one more failure on my part, one more screw-up. I think he felt it was proof positive that I was a loser. That I'd never amount to anything. Can't say he stopped caring about me, but he sure as hell lost all respect for me. With strangers, it was even worse than that. In their eyes, being an ex-con branded me. Made me impure. Evil. Corrupt. Not to be trusted. Not to be touched…._

Sometimes, I think I still see that look in the Keeper's eyes, and I hate it.

I try to hang onto hope that Bobby's different. _After all, he must've known about this, or at least suspected, long before now. But he isn't like all the others. He didn't judge me. He never looked at me like that. Not once. _

Or did he? A memory slips through my mind, and turns me cold. _I felt how he stiffened up, while I was kissing him just now. He was freaked. That's why he stopped me and went into the shower._

I feel bleak.

__

Maybe he has judged me. Just like all the rest of 'em. He may not've said it, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been thinking it. I hang my head, and take a deep breath. I don't want to think that about Bobby, but it's hard to believe that he could be that different, different from almost anyone I've ever met. Better even than my own brother. It's difficult to believe that he could look past my record, past my past, and see _me_. 

__

Please, please --!

I'm so desperate I'm praying, without even knowing who I'm praying to_. Not sure I believe in God. I mean, if He exists, where was he when the Nazis were in charge? Where was He when I was in Quentin getting gang raped? Still -- if there is someone listening, please don't let Bobby get freaked out by my past! I want him. I need him! Please --_

I look at the clock again.

__

What's taking so long? He said he just wanted to take a shower…. But he also said, my promise to come in after him sounded like a threat. A threat! What'd he mean by that? 

I look at the clock again_. Two more minutes to go. _I pace some more, my heart racing. _Come on,_ _Bobby. Hurry up, dammit!_

**********************

I don't know what to do. I stand under the spray of hot water, letting it wash all the dirt and sand off me, and I'm seized by doubt. Everything that seemed so right out there, while I was kissing Darien, seems nuts in here. 

__

I must be crazy, for even thinking about going to bed with my own partner. With a guy. A guy who just tried to off himself! _I'm supposed to protect him, but I already screwed up at that, or he wouldn't have taken that goddamn swim. And now I wanna fuck him? What're the odds that I'll do any better at that? Even if I do -- if it works out okay, if I do all right in the sack and don't mess him up even more by fumbling around -- then I'll just wanna be with him again. I'll wanna be his lover. I know that. But I'm not sure Darien will want that. I'm not even sure he could handle it. And if he can't, it might screw things up between us. _

Even if he can, even if he does want more than a fling, how in the hell will we ever keep it from the Fat Man? He's spooky, that guy. Got eyes in the back of his head. He sees everything. And Fawkes is so impulsive, so "let it all hang out" that if we get involved, he'll never be able to hide it. I know Darien. He'll think it's just a game; he won't take it seriously enough. Sooner or later, he'll slip up somehow. He'll tease me, or try to kiss me at the Agency or some dumb thing, and the Official will find out, and I'll be out on my ass. And they'll never find anyone to partner up with Fawkes who'll care as much about him as I do. So if they let me go, he'll probably wind up dead.

Then again, he almost wound up dead tonight anyway. Not because I was fucking him, but maybe because I wasn't. Because no one has been. So he got so damn down, so lonely and depressed and scared that he thought he couldn't take it anymore. I still have to find out what that was all about, if he was just worried about what the gland does to him, or if there was more to it than that. But I know that was part of it.

Still….

What'll he do if I turn him down again? What if it shoves him off the deep end again, like before? I close my eyes, frustrated. _Why is it, when I try to be logical and rational about this, that I can't see the right answer? It's like no matter what I do, whether I have sex with him or not, Darien'll wind up dead! _

Despite the warm water, I feel a chill. _That's gotta be wrong. I can't let that happen. There's gotta be a way through all this. I gotta find one. _I turn around. Turn my back to the shower spray, and let it beat on my shoulders for awhile. I take deep breaths. Try to clear my head and let my anxieties drain away, like my shrink taught me. _What is it he's always saying? Think of it from a different perspective?_

__

Maybe that's what I oughtta do. Maybe I'm coming at this from the wrong direction. Maybe I'm thinking too much, period. Worrying too much, like I always do. Getting paranoid. Seeing the negatives, instead of the positives. Sure, there's all kinds of risks involved. All sorts of things could go wrong, if I go to bed with Fawkes. But that's just the down side. It might make some things a lot better, too. Might take our loneliness away. It might give us both what we need. And I've taken risks all my life. Why stop now? Especially since we've both got problems already. Problems that getting together might help. 

I shut off all my questions for a minute. Try to turn off logic and rationality, and look way down inside myself. Into that deep, dark, scary place we call the heart. _I see two lonely guys in there. Darien and me. He's lonely and scared. I'm lonely and empty inside. I know he needs me. And I need him, too. He wants me, and I sure as hell want him. _

"I'd t-take a bullet for you, Bobby." 

Who else on this planet would say that to me? Or do that for me? No one.

Fawkes wants me. He's beautiful, and he's out there waiting for me; and I want him. So I can either go with that, follow my heart, and see what happens -- or I can listen to my head. Do the smart thing, and play it safe. 

I reach up and turn off the shower, and listen to the sudden silence. The sound of safety. Of solitude. The sound of emptiness, of loneliness.

__

I know that sound so well. _I hate that sound. I've been hearing it for years. Playing it safe for years. And where did it get me?_

Think it's time to change that.

Think I already left safety behind, on Black's beach. 

****

End Part 2

Email the author: dlyonesse@hotmail.com

__


	3. Outside the Lines

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Author: Devyn Lyonesse

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Email address: dlyonesse@hotmail.com

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Fandom: Invisible Man

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Disclaimers: The usual. Don't own 'em, wish I did. Yadda, yadda.

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Category: Slash, romance, drama, episode coda, angst

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Pairing: Darien/Bobby 

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Rating: NC-17 

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Spoilers: For "Tiresias"

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Archiving: Anyone who wants to, please ask me first.

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Series note: This is story #3 (and the last) in my slash series, "Thief of Hearts". The first two stories in this series, "Deep Blue" and "Distinctions", are archived at the Quicksilver Archive. I'll try to get them archived here eventually too. 

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Summary: Darien finally tells Hobbes the truth about his swim, and both men have to face the depth of their own feelings.

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Author's notes: This is set after the events in "Tiresias", in a slightly alternate universe. If you like detailed slash with angst and romance, try this. Please bear in mind, the author deeply appreciates feedback. So if you like this, let me know!

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Outside the Lines

© Devyn

By the time four minutes have passed, I'm pacing the floor like a lunatic. _If I smoked, I'd've lit one up already_. I don't, so I crack my knuckles instead while I wait for Bobby to come out of the shower. Wait for him to decide what he wants to do with me -- or not do. This voice in my head starts sneering at me. _Now who's freaking? You're being needy. Pathetic! Feeling sorry for yourself, 'cause you're an ex-con. What're ya gonna do for an encore? Start singing, "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina"? Get a grip, Fawkes!_

I try. But all I seem to get a grip on is my own fingers. I clench my hands into fists while I pace. It's mental torture, but all I can think of are more reasons why Bobby could reject me. _I know he wants me, but he's fighting it. Why? Is he afraid to have sex with me because it might cost him his job, if the Official found out? That's nuts. He wouldn't find out, 'cause I'd never tell. I'd never do anything to hurt Bobby --_

But that little voice in my head butts in again. _That's not true. You already did! You went Quicksilver mad and almost killed him._

But that wasn't me! I tell it, anguished. Still, I know it's true. _It was me, and it was the worst thing I've ever done. Far worse than anything I ever did time for_. I pace some more._ So, is it that? Is Hobbes scared that'll happen again? That I'll go red-eyed, that my demon will come out and hurt him while we're in bed? Naw, it can't be that. I showed him my tattoo last night, and I'm good. He knows that --_

I stop dead in the middle of the floor._ No, I **was** good. But I went invisible for awhile after that. Used up some Quicksilver. Maybe too much! How could I have forgotten that?_

I glance down at my right wrist. Check myself out belatedly, my heart beating fast. _I'm okay, though_. _The tattoo's still only a little over a quarter red._ _I've still got a good safety margin. No need to worry. Still, I can't believe I forgot to check that, before I started kissing Bobby! _

I feel like a little bit of my past just rose up and bit me in the butt. I was a punk for so long, I'm still not really used to responsibility. The little details involved in caring for someone. But for Bobby, I'm going to learn. This tattoo's a start.

Shaken, I rub the inside of my wrist and make a vow never to forget to check it again, when I'm with him.

*************************************************************************************

I leave my pajamas in the shower, and step out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around my hips. To my surprise, Darien's out of bed. He's standing just a few feet away from me, all tensed up, like he's been pacing the floor or something, while I took a shower. He's looking down at the inside of his wrist. Looking worried. Rubbing his tattoo like it hurts him. But when he sees me, he stops and jerks his hand back to his side real fast, like he didn't want me to catch him doing that.

__

Dunno what he's worried about. I already checked out his tattoo, and he's fine. Still, that nervous little twitch makes me feel a bit better. _It's good to know he's a little freaked out, too. Nice to know he's not so confident, either. _

Still, I'm not gonna make this easy for him. I can't. _This is a big step for me. This is major. But Fawkes won't see it like that. Won't see how serious this is at all. So I've gotta set some ground rules, or it won't work. _

I take a step towards him, and see relief mingling with curiosity on his face. Then he looks down at my towel, and the relief changes to hunger. Understanding dawns in his eyes. He's figured out why I didn't get dressed again; and it lights a spark in him. A seductive smile curves his mouth. He starts toward me, and he's got that cocky sway back in his walk_. Like he knows he's got it made. Like he knows he's got *me* made, before I say a word._ It pisses me off, 'cause I know he's probably right. _Still, I can't let him see that. Can't let him move in on me before I say what I have to say._

"Save it, Fawkes," I tell him bluntly, holding his gaze. "First things first."

That stops him cold. He frowns a little, cocking his head like he does when he's confused. He looks taken aback. Surprised, even worried. "What do you mean?"

__

Good. Now I've got his attention. "You gotta promise me something," I tell him.

__

Darien looks weird. His face falls, and I can feel him withdrawing. I can almost see it. It's like he's left my apartment, left me behind, even though I'm still looking at him. He frowns, lowers his head and stares at the floor. Can't see me, can't hear me -- at least, he doesn't want to. "What?" he mumbles, across the huge gap that's suddenly formed in between us.

It's not the first time the kid's gone all sullen on me. Probably won't be the last. I've learned not to let it piss me off so much, or put me off either. Now it just makes me more determined to reach him. Get the message across. "There's some things you gotta understand, Fawkes," I say, a little louder. "What happens here …in this apartment -- or in yours," I add hastily, thinking ahead. "Whatever happens with us, I mean -- it stays here. Right here. It doesn't go anywhere else. It can't."

I'm not sure if Fawkes gets what I'm saying. He doesn't answer, he just shrugs. His eyes are still on the floor, and he's got that childish, closed-off look, that pissed-off look he always gets when someone's telling him something he doesn't want to hear.

__

Big surprise. Fawkes likes everything to be easy, but this won't be. He's gotta understand, though, that it's the only way we can be together. If we wanna have sex, we've gotta keep it under wraps. It's the only way we'll survive. Not just because of the Official, either. In this business, we can't afford to let anyone find out that we're lovers. Being partners is risky enough -- if it got out that we're lovers too, we'd be sitting ducks. Arnaud or Chrysalis or any of the other crazies we go up against could try to kidnap us, and use either of us as a hostage for the other. I gotta make Fawkes see how important keeping it a secret's gonna be. 

"You got that, Fawkes?" I snap. "I'm saying, we gotta keep our private lives private. We don't talk about it, when we're not at home. We don't even think about it. Nothing changes at work, no matter what. _Nothing._ No kissing, no PDA's at the Agency. No jokes about it, either. You gotta keep your mouth shut. Understand?"

Finally, I get a response. I know he heard that, 'cause I see a little flash of resentment on his face. "Yeah, yeah. I'm not stupid, Bobby," he mutters. 

But I don't relent, because I still don't think he understands. If he did, he wouldn't look so disappointed. If he did, he'd see that I'm only trying to look out for us, as best I can. "I know that! But this ain't about smart or stupid. It's about maintaining a cover."

"What?" Darien finally looks up at me, but his brow's furrowed like he's confused.

So am I. Confused and getting more and more frustrated, by the minute. _He's so smart, he usually knows what I'm gonna say before I even get the words outta my mouth. But here I've been spelling it out for him, and I might as well be speaking Greek. He's not getting it!_ My frustration rises. _What's the hell's with him? Doesn't he understand how important this is?_

"I'm talking about undercover work, my friend. Your ability to play a role. To lie. If we do this, you think you can act like nothing happened, after? Act perfectly normal at the Agency, like nothing's changed? You think you can keep it a total secret, and never tell anyone? Not even Claire?" No need to spell out what we're about to do. Fawkes knows as well as I do. "'Cause if you can't, we should walk away now and forget it."

"If we do this?" Darien repeats. Just like that, his vagueness vanishes. His eyes meet mine again, and they're intent. Focused on me. "You mean --"

"Yeah. If we -- you know. Hit the sheets." 

"Oh. Oh!" His eyes brighten with hope and relief. "Okay!"

__

Well, finally! I think, exasperated. "What the hell did you think I was talking about?"

Darien just shrugs. "Nothing. Never mind." Suddenly, he looks more than satisfied, he looks smug. Like he just won the lottery. A slow smile spreads across his face, and he moves toward me again, with that lazy, sexy, cat-like walk that drives me crazy. And I know he's doing it on purpose. He stops close to me, and trails a finger down my chest. "I'm not walking away, Bobby," he says softly, looking at my mouth. "You got that? I'm not going _anywhere_. No matter what." 

He's trying to seduce me, and it's working. Just watching him walk turned me on, and his touch makes me want to grab him. _But he's not getting around me that easy. No way. This is too important._ _He didn't say it yet, and it ain't gonna happen 'till he does_. So I don't reach out for him, or even acknowledge his touch. I have to swallow hard before I can answer, but when I look him in the eye, I'm dead serious. I make my voice as hard and stern as I can. "Swear!"

Darien's smile goes away. So does his caressing hand. But his gaze holds mine, and his eyes are steady. "Okay. I swear, okay?" he says, quietly but distinctly. 

I let out a breath. Didn't realize how worried I was that he'd say no, until just now. "Okay."

But Darien's not finished. I should've known, he couldn't stay serious about anything for more than two seconds. He holds up a hand, palm out, like he's taking an oath. "I, Darien Fawkes solemnly swear," he intones, "that whether or not we have hot, passionate sex tonight, I will still insult and harass you as only I can afterwards, every day, all day, while we're at work. As per usual. So even if you don't ravish me to my heart's content, I will still bust the Official's chops to the best of my ability, and drive Keepie up the wall with unauthorized use of my secret, but manly, powers of invisibility. In short, I will not change. I'll still be the perfect partner I've always been. No matter what happens here, in -- oh, about the next ten seconds. I hope." 

I have to fight to suppress a grin_. Did he really say he wants me to "ravish him"? In the next ten seconds? Jesus, that's hot!_ To cover the sudden, excited beating of my heart, I grumble, "Enough, already. Think you're perfect, huh?"

But Fawkes still isn't done. He maintains his mock-serious expression, but his eyes are smiling. "I swear -- on my honor."

I take a step closer to him. "What, that you think you're perfect?" _Like I didn't know_.

I expect him to say yes, but he surprises me again. The corners of his mouth turn up a little, and his eyes heat up again as he answers, "No, that I want you to ravish me."

__

Damn. One little sentence, and he can make me hard! _Make me want him so bad that I hurt. _I try to hide it though, because there's something else that's more important. Something that I don't want to get lost, in the middle of this familiar little game. Something I can't let Darien distract me from. "You mean you're gonna behave at the Agency, after. That's what you're swearing to, right?"

Fawkes nods, pointing to his upheld hand and giving me his best "innocent" look. "Right." 

He starts to lower his hand, but I notice there's still a hint of laughter in his eyes. _Uh oh_, I think. "Okay, but do you swear it on your honor as a thief?"

Fawkes blinks at that. Freezes, with his palm still up in the air. The laughter fades out of his eyes, replaced by surprise and something that looks like admiration. _Bet he's surprised I even thought of that._ _But I know it's the only constant in his life. Besides me, anyway_.

"Thieves have no honor, Hobbes. I thought you knew that."

__

What I know is, he's trying to wiggle out of promising to behave. He always does that. It's a reflex, a habit from when he was a criminal. But this is one time he's not gonna get away with it. "I know one who does," I say quietly, meaning it. "So swear." 

Darien shakes his head and smiles a little. "Damn, Bobby! You know me so well."

"You bet your ass I do." _So well that I can't be deflected that easily_. "Go on then. Swear. On the thief thing."

Darien lifts his head and meets my eyes. Lifts his hand into position again. "Okay. I swear on that, too," he says quietly. 

I check him out carefully. Do the acid test, the one he can never pass when he's lying to me. I get up real close to him and peer deep into his brown eyes. First the left one, then the right. I search for any sign of deviousness, laughter or evasion, for any hint that he's not serious about this. But he's still got his hand up in the air, and his eyes are utterly serious now. He doesn't flinch, doesn't look away from my searching stare. He doesn't even blink. Finally, I know he's telling me the truth. That he'll keep our secret, keep his mouth shut about us, no matter what. "Okay then. Done."

Darien finally lowers his hand and bends his head close to mine. He smiles, but he's giving my mouth this hungry look all the same. "Just for the record," he says softly, "when I want to, I can maintain a cover with the best of 'em. And Bobby?"

He stops with his head close to mine, his eyes on my lips, his mouth hovering just inches away. Teasing me. I look at his warm, full lips, and I wanna kiss him so much that I ache. So much that I can hardly keep from leaning up and doing it. But I hold myself still, waiting to see what he's gonna do next. "Yeah?" My voice comes out a little hoarse.

Darien's smile widens. His voice low and husky, his mouth almost -- but not quite -- touching mine, he says, "This time, I want to. I really, really want to."

__

He's not just talking about undercover work now, I think, and my heart goes faster.

I smile back at him. "So do I." I close the distance between us, cover that sexy mouth with mine, and kiss the hell out of him.

*****************************************************************************************************************

Bobby comes out of the shower looking dark and serious. But he's not wearing his pajamas any more. All he's got on is a white towel, knotted low on his hips. It's such a contrast to his dark skin that one look at him brings on a deep surge of desire. _Damn, but he's gorgeous_. _Broad shoulders, great biceps, smooth, muscular chest…. Flat stomach, dark eyes and hair and beautiful, warm brown skin…._ I catch my breath. _Don't think he's got a clue how handsome he is. I wanna grab him. Unwrap him. Take him. _

But something in his expression stops me. _I'm not sure what to make of him right now_._ That towel's saying, I'm ready to party. But his face is set. Tough. In combat mode. He looks like a cross between a Christmas present and a live grenade. Talk about mixed messages! He looks like he's either gonna shoot me or fuck me unconscious, I'm not sure which. But I know which one I'm voting for_. So I give it my best. I saunter towards him, using a little hip action and an inviting smile.

Bobby stops me cold, though. "Save it," he says curtly. "First things first."

"Whaddaya mean?" His look, his tone stop me cold. They both hint that he's changed his mind. My heart hits the floor. _He's gonna reject me!_ _That's what he was doing in the shower! Making up his mind to say no, to blow me off. Again._ _That's why he looks so grim. Aw, fuck! _I feel an echo of the terrible pain I felt back in his apartment, when he did it the first time. _I thought we were past this. But I guess not_. Despair washes through me, bleak and bitter. For a second, I regret coming out of the ocean, if this is what I came back to -- just one more rejection.

Hobbes stands there with his back ramrod straight, his eyes hard and intent, his voice terse. "You gotta promise me something," he says. 

__

Great. He's not just gonna reject me, he's gonna make me promise him something, too! Probably that I'll never, ever tell anyone at the Agency that he kissed me. Or maybe he wants me to promise to forget all about it! To pretend this was all just a mistake, and act like it never happened! Fuck! I don't think I can do that. I know I don't want to. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick. I mumble, "What?" and try to look like I'm paying attention, but I'm so disappointed that for a minute, I can't. I stare at the floor, because it's the only way I can hide my face, and keep my heartache from showing. 

Hobbes rambles on. "… gotta keep our private lives private."

I just shrug. _Sure enough_, _Bobby spouts_ _some paranoid bullshit about not betraying Agency secrets -- then he adds, "No kissing, no PDA's, yadda, yadda." Dammit! I was right. He's already regretting what we did, how close we got. He must really be afraid I'm gonna tell everyone at work about that kiss. Or that I put my arms around him in bed last night. Well, I won't, _I think, resentful. _I wouldn't've anyway._ _I never kiss and tell. Not that there was anything more to tell, damn it. _"Yeah, yeah. I'm not stupid, Bobby!" I snap. Now that he's rejecting me, I just wish he'd shut up.

Then suddenly, I hear Hobbes say, "This ain't about smart or stupid. It's about maintaining a cover, Fawkes."

"Huh? What?"That startles me out of my funk. _Wait -- we're not talking about the same thing here_. _Hell, we're not even on the same page! This isn't about me keeping quiet about a couple of kisses. So what the hell is he talking about?_ I look up at him again. _Bobby looks frustrated, like he knows I haven't really been paying attention. And he's right. I was so sure he was blowing me off, I got distracted. Got busy feeling sorry for myself, before Bobby really got a chance to tell me what he meant. What a dipshit. _So I push aside my fear and pain, and listen hard.

"If we do this, you think you can act like nothing happened, after? Act perfectly normal at the Agency, like nothing's changed? You think you can keep it a total secret, and never tell anyone? Not even Claire? 'Cause if you can't, we should walk away now and forget it."

"If we do this…" I blink, stunned. _'This' means sex! He's talking about sex! He's not rejecting me, after all! _My confidence rushes back. _He wants me. Bobby wants me!_ _He's just saying we've gotta keep it a secret if we do it, that's all. God, what a relief!_

My confidence returns in a rush. I feel good, feel cocky, feel sexy again. _Keeping whatever happens between us a secret is fine by me. Already knew we'd have to do that anyway. I'm not brain dead_, _and the Fat Man would probably kill us if he found out. Or at least send Bobby away, probably out of pure spite. And that's the last thing I want_. _Not to mention what thugs like Arnaud and Stark might try, if they found out about us._

I start towards Bobby again. But even when I get close to him, lean in and smile, he still isn't satisfied. He looks stern. Hard. Unyielding. "I mean it, Fawkes. Swear!" he orders, like a drill sergeant.

Now that I know his toughness isn't a rejection, though, I see it differently. It's not depressing. In fact, it's kinda arousing. _This is Bobby the Marine. Bobby the soldier. Bobby in command_. _He's being forceful, and I love it._ _It's a turn-on. Almost as good as seeing him in uniform. _I make a mental note to myself to ask him about that, later. _I've never seen him in uniform. That'd be cool. _

"Okay. I swear, okay?" I mean it, but I wonder if he realizes how easy that was. _Kinda ironic, really. I always avoided making promises to everyone else I slept with. But_ _I want Bobby so bad, I'd have promised him anything, anything at all, just so I could touch him again_._ I thought he might make other conditions, though. Tell me I have to wear a condom, or that he wants us to be exclusive or something. That he doesn't want me to screw around with anyone else, while I'm with him. Guess I was hoping he'd say that, because it'd mean he wants more than just sex, or a one-time thing. But all he asked is for me not to act different at work after this. Not much of a request, when he could've had the moon_.

To hide my own disappointment, I start teasing him. I hold up my hand like a Boy Scout and rattle off some screwy joke of an oath, swearing that no matter what happens between us, I'll still mouth off as usual at work. The joke helps me feel a little better, but I'm not sure how Hobbes will take it. Sometimes my jokes just piss him off….

This time, though, he actually smiles at my little smokescreen. 

I only meant to distract him, to keep him from realizing that I wanted him to ask me for more than just secrecy. But my little joke does more than that. It's like magic. It takes the stiffness out of Hobbes's stance, the grimness out of his eyes. Just like that, he isn't a drill sergeant anymore. He's not tough, he's not guarded. He's just himself, just my friend Bobby again. He relaxes, and grins at me. He even unbends enough to tease me back for a minute, and make me promise that I'll behave.

Then he switches moods again, back to serious. "Okay, but do you swear it on your honor as a thief?" 

I try to deflect him with another joke. "Thieves have no honor. You know that." 

But Bobby insists, "I know one who does. Now swear."

That shocks all thought of jokes right out of me. It gets me, way down deep_. Bobby thinks I'm honorable. That's about the highest compliment he can pay someone. Wow! Never thought I'd hear him say that to me._

A second later, I realize that, like a lot of things about Bobby, that compliment was more than it seemed. _Did I ever mention just how crafty Bobby Hobbes is? Oh, yeah. He's so smart -- he knows me through and through. So well that he even knows what words will really bind me. What to say, to make me turn a joke into a promise_. 

"Okay. I swear on that, too," I answer. Because of course, I'd've sworn on anything, and _to_ anything, for him.

I draw closer to him: to my partner, Bobby Hobbes, the magic man. And familiar as he is after all these months, this is a Bobby I've never seen before. A Bobby with desire radiating openly from his brown eyes, and heating up the air between us. A Bobby who's hungry for me, and no longer trying to hide it. I stop for a second. I don't reach for him yet, I just stand there, drinking that in. The look on his handsome face. The desire in his eyes. The knowledge that it's there for me. That this time, finally, he's not turning me away. 

Finally, I guess Bobby gets tired of waiting while I eat him up with my eyes. 'Cause he leans forward and kisses me again.

*******************************************************************************************************

Before I know it, we're on my bed again. Lying on our sides, facing each other. I've still got my towel on, and Darien's still in his jeans. We're still just kissing. He's not rushing me, and I'm grateful. _But I've got a feeling that's not gonna last much longer. It's hot, kissing him. Hotter than anything I've felt with anyone, since -- since Viv_.

"What?" Darien asks, finally tearing his mouth from mine. 

I shrug. I'm not gonna run away from him again just because I thought of my ex-wife, but I don't feel comfortable talking about her with him, either. _Especially not now._ _Don't think he'd appreciate me bringing up my ex, while we're making out_. "Nothing," I lie. I lean over and kiss him again, trying to distract him.

But Darien's not buying it. He waits till the kiss is done, then he searches my face. "It's just -- you look a little sad. It's not me, is it?"

"No." I shake my head, amazed at how well he can read me. _Better than anyone else but her…. _

Still, the kid won't let it go. "You looked like that before. Earlier, when you were talking about your training," he says quietly. "Your career. Did I -- you know, make you feel bad about it or somethin'?" he asks, the words a little awkward. "I didn't mean to…." 

That's a tough one to answer. Can't give him details, and I don't even want to. But I don't wanna lie to him, either. "You just … reminded me that I've had to do some things … some things I'm not proud of. That's all," I say slowly.

Just like that, I'm in his arms. Before I can blink, he's wrapped all around me, and whispering, "Bobby, Bobby," like he wishes he could take away all those dark, bloody memories. All the times when protecting my country meant doing things that still haunt me in the night sometimes. Startled by his unexpected embrace, his caring, I don't say anything. I just let him hold me, let him warm me with his big body. 

"You wanna tell me?" he murmurs softly, after awhile. "'Cause you can. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

I smile a little. "Yeah, but … no. At least … not now." Maybe I'll tell him some of it someday, but now's not the time. We still need to deal with his problems, before we even start to worry about mine. Still, Fawkes amazes me. No one else in my life but Viv ever wanted to know about my sordid past, or cared what it did to me, either. But the thought of her brings a twist of anger. _Shit! What am I doing? Why am I even thinking about her again, when Darien's with me? _But deep inside, I know why. _He's the first person since Viv that I've opened up to, that I feel so much for. He makes me feel like she did, and it's scary_. 

"Okay. But it's done with, you know?" he says. "It's all right. No matter what you did, it won't change how I feel."

I believe that. Incredible as it is, I can't help but believe him. Fawkesy's never lied to me, not when it counted, anyway. Not about something like this. And there's something fierce behind the gentleness in his voice and his embrace, something that tells me, beyond any doubt, that he won't let go no matter what. So I don't pull away from him. I let him hold on, let his warmth touch the old darkness inside of me that he unknowingly called up, the other night. Somehow, the way he's holding me, despite all the killing I've done … it takes away a little of the pain_. Knowing he can deal with the worst of it, the darkest part of me, the part that even Viv could never really understand … that means a lot. It's probably more than I deserve. And knowing he's not going to go away if I ever decide to open up about it, that's a fucking miracle. I've been thrown in enough shit in my life to recognize grace when I see it -- even when it comes in the shape of this man-child ex-thief_. 

My own private, spiky-haired angel. That's who's holding onto me now, I can feel it. So I let him do it, let his gentleness, his affection ease that old, old pain. "It's not you, Fawkes," I say gruffly into his chest. "It isn't. You're a major pain in the ass, but partnering you … I mostly feel good about that."

I feel him take a careful breath. "Mostly?"

__

Oops. Maybe that wasn't the best choice of words. But it's true. Being with Fawkes isn't always easy. I hate what the gland's doing to him. Hate having to watch him convulse with pain when his shots wear off, and he goes into quicksilver madness. That's what I hate most of all: seeing him go red-eyed, and watching his agony after, when the memories of what he did start to trickle back. So yeah. Except for all that, and my guilt over being part of all that, being his partner is fine. But I'm not dumb enough to say so. We've both spent enough time being worried out of our skulls about each other, lately. _I figure it's time to lighten things up a little now, so I tease him instead_.

"You think it's easy, partnering a punk with big hair?"

That surprises a laugh out of him.

It's the truth, and it isn't. But it's as much of it as I can tell him right now, and I think he knows it. He lets me go and searches my eyes again. "So. You sure you're okay with this?"

"Gimme a break, here! Didn't I say? You gonna take my word on it, or you want a signed affidavit?" 

"That'd be nice." He smiles a little, but he keeps searching my eyes, like he's still not totally convinced. I feel this little pang of doubt myself. _Part of me is still worried that I'll screw it up, or that he'll laugh. Maybe both. But even that isn't enough to hold me back anymore. Desire's been building in me, growing hotter and stronger for months now_. _I've been looking at him, dreaming about him, wanting to touch him -- and now he's here, wanting me back. Kissing me, even though I turned him down before. I won't make that mistake again. I want him more than I'm scared of this. I think maybe I want him more than I've wanted anything, for a helluva long time_.

I take a deep breath, and say the words again. "Darien -- I'm sure."

Fawkes lets out a breath that tells me he was more worried about my introspection than I realized. He smiles, and reaches out to touch my shoulder. He caresses it gently, looking relieved and tender. "Good," he says softly. "'Cause if you'd said no again, I think it might've killed me."

I try not to wince. I have been blowing hot and cold with him, and of course, he picked up on it. I just can't tell him why. "Nah. Aren't you supposed to be the Invincible Man?" I tease. But my mind's not really on what I'm saying. I'm watching Darien. He has gorgeous hands, long, slender and strong, and one's still moving lightly over my shoulder as we talk. Tracing little circles on my skin. _I like his touch. It's warm. Gentle. Sexy._

Darien raises an eyebrow, smiling. "You might be surprised. I've got it _bad_, Bobby," he whispers, looking down at my mouth. His eyes caress it, while his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. "_Real _bad."

Now, I _know_ Darien's playing with me. But this time, I don't mind. I like being playful in bed; and when his eyes lift and lock with mine again, they're sparkling, gleeful, filled with such erotic promise that I'm hypnotized. _Jesus. You *are* bad! You're the walking, talking, living, breathing *definition* of bad, my friend. Can't tell ya that, though_. _It'd only go to your head._

"Oh, yeah?" I murmur instead, teasing him back. "You wanna play, is that it?" 

"Yeah," he breathes, smiling. "Anything you want, Bobby. Anything…."

He's staring at my mouth again. I drink in the hunger in his eyes while he trails his finger over my shoulders and down to my lips. I hold still while he touches them, traces their shape. But I can feel the ache building inside me. And I have the feeling Darien's not as relaxed as he looks, either. 'Cause I felt how hard his heart was beating when we kissed. 

At first, I think Darien's going slow to tease me. Trying to draw this out to drive me crazy. But then I realize, that's not it. _He's waiting. Waiting for me to relax, or to make a move_. _One or the other. _I can feel my heart pounding already too, but it's as much from nervousness as it is lust. _I don't know what he likes, and I don't wanna look stupid_. So I can't bring myself to try anything. I finally decide to throw the ball into his court. "Okay, what now?" 

Finally, Darien leans over and kisses me again. His lips are soft. So is his voice. "Whatever you want," he says again.

He's still going slow, to help me relax. I know that, but I don't like it. It just embarrasses me. I'm not used to feeling uncomfortable about sex. But I do now. I swallow, feeling stupid. "I don't know --" 

__

I don't know what to do, or what he'd like. Even though I've been dreaming about him for months, I never really thought this would happen. And I've never been here before. Never done this in real life. I feel this funny little flutter in my gut, like I did my first time years ago, with Carol Petroski in the back seat of her old man's Cadillac_._

Swear to God, if Darien makes some joke about me being a virgin, I'll kill him.

But he doesn't. For once, Darien doesn't make any smart remarks at all. He just smiles. Kisses me and breathes in my ear, "Why don't you just lie back, Bobby, and let me make you feel good?"

That sends a hot pulse of excitement through me. A wave of relief, too. _That sounds good. That sounds really, really good. Just let Darien take over here. Let him do what he wants. Let him be the expert for once. I'll be the beginner_. 

"Okay." But saying that is one thing. Actually doing it isn't that easy. Not for me. _All my training, my conditioning taught me to take control of things. I've gotten used to that. I've always been the agent in charge, the one with all the experience. I'm used to taking the lead with Fawkes, too. It feels weird, to think about letting him take over. To put myself in someone else's hands, after all these years._

To trust someone that much….

I hesitate, thinking about what he might do. About having his weight on top of me again, and how he held me down before. I know he didn't mean to make me nervous, but it did. _Trust isn't my strong suit._ _Plus, Fawkes isn't a woman. Not this soft little person I can control. He's bigger than I am, and really strong. _

I try to tell myself that's okay. Just part of the guy thing, that I gotta get used to if we're gonna have sex. But despite my good intentions, a dark memory flits through my head, of the time he went quicksilver crazy and attacked me. I feel a flicker of fear, remembering Fawkes on top of me that time. _He was red-eyed. Totally nutso. He seemed stronger than usual, like the quicksilver super-charged him, and he was laughing while he choking me. I remember how bad it felt. Not just the pain, but the humiliation, too. There I was, Mr. Martial Arts, expert in hand-to-hand, but Fawkes the greenhorn overpowered me. I couldn't even fucking throw him off. He had me, and he was choking me so hard, I couldn't breathe. The lights were going out. If Claire hadn't gotten there when she did…. I don't like to think about it._

But sometimes, like now, I can't stop thinking about it. _If I let go now, let my guard down in bed, Fawkes could do a lot worse than rape me. He could kill me. _

I push the fear aside. _That's nuts_, I tell myself. _That wasn't Fawkes at all. Not really_. _That was his demon_. _The guy who said he'd take a bullet for me, that was the real Darien. That guy, I trust with my life. He's the one I'm with right now, and I almost lost him tonight. I can't keep pushing him away, can't keep turning him down. He deserves better._

My nervousness dies away. I'm embarrassed that I got so paranoid about him_. _Especially after he came to me for help._ I still don't know exactly what his swim was all about, but I don't think he'd've done that if he'd thought someone cared about him. Really cared. He's not asking for so much here, just a little trust. Just a chance to show me this could work. I know why he needs that; and I know I do, too. Hell, I owe him that much._ _He's always been loyal. He's been a good partner. He's not gonna try to rape me, or hurt me. Fawkesy's never hurt me, except when that fucking gland wigged him out; and that wasn't his fault. He's not gonna wig out now. He's fine, his tattoo proves it. Besides, I know Darien. Even if his tattoo wasn't working, if he felt like he was gonna go nutso, he'd tell me. But he's not having headaches, or getting edgy like he does when he's about to pop. He's fine. So there's no reason not to do this._

So after a minute, I force myself to do what he asked. I turn over. Lie down on my back, and try to relax. But I feel stiff. Uncomfortable. Being passive just doesn't come naturally to me. My heart's going into overdrive, and he hasn't even touched me yet.

"Just don't -- don't go crazy here, okay, Darien?" I mutter. I know that ain't exactly romantic, but it's honest. I don't want him to move too fast, because I feel so awkward. I have to force myself to lie still, to close my eyes, because all my instincts are screaming no, don't do it! This won't work!

For once, I ignore my instincts_. Yes it will_, I tell them. _I trust him_. _I want him._

Still, I expect Darien to laugh. To tease me about my nervousness_. He loves to do that, loves to get me all worked up -- and this is his perfect chance_. But whenI sneak a peek at him, he's not laughing. He's propped up on his elbow, looking down at me with a smile. "Okay," he says. "No going crazy. I promise. Not yet, anyway." _His face looks soft. Warm. _There's so much affection in his eyes that I finally start to relax. 

__

Why'd I even think he'd hurt me? He's not doing that. He's trying to put me at ease, trying to make me feel good. I'd be stupid not to let him. But now he's the one who's hesitating, so I pull at his shoulder. "Jeez. Didn't say you couldn't kiss me, did I? Get down here, Gland Boy."

"Yes _sir_!" Fawkes grins and shifts his weight, lowering himself over me again. He does it gracefully, expertly, taking most of his weight on his forearms and spreading his legs next to mine, so I don't feel pinned down like before. I just have time to wonder if he sensed how that bothered me. Then he bends his dark head and kisses me. Covers my mouth with his, gently at first, then harder. I open up and draw him in deep. His tongue is warm and wet and it moves eagerly against mine, teasing it until my heart's racing and I'm breathing faster. 

__

Oh, this feels good. This feels hot. Sexy. Terrific. He's good at this, he's damn good. But so am I. 

Kissing Darien brings my confidence back.

I've always loved kissing. It's great finding out Darien likes it just as much, too. I curl my arms around his neck and we both get into it. We lie there for awhile, not hurrying. Just exploring each other's mouths, stroking each other gently. I feel warm. Good. Better than good. I slowly realize, for the first time in ages, I'm happy. Because Darien's here in my arms, and because it isn't a dream this time. It's not a lie, or a game. He really wants me.

He's the best thing that's happened to me in years. I'd forgotten how good it feels, having your dreams come true.

"Mmm." Darien starts kissing my neck. Warm, soft kisses, caressing rather than hungry. I relax a little more, and start to let myself feel it. Feel his tongue, swirling against my skin. His belly, warm against mine. His hands, moving lightly over my shoulders. It's all good so far. All warm and gentle and sensual. No pressure. But I hear him make a small, hungry sound deep in his throat, and I shiver. I can feel how much he's holding back….

Fawkes lifts his head. "Good?" 

"Yeah." 

But I can't help noticing, Darien's a little breathless. His eyes are wide and they're starting to go dark with hunger. He looks almost desperate. It hits me, maybe he is. Maybe in his own way, he's been as lonely as me. That idea stuns me. He always acts so confident, and women eat him up with their eyes wherever we go. I always assumed he must make out like a bandit with the ladies. Still, there's that whole gland thing…. "How long's it been, partner?" I ask gently, so he'll know I'm not making fun of him.

Darien swallows hard. He tries to smile, but I see shadows fill his eyes. "A long time," he admits. "Too long, I think." His voice cracks a little, and he flushes, looking away.

I know how much it must've hurt to say that, to admit it. I feel my throat tighten at his painful honesty. _Aw crap. I never knew. Never even guessed! I just always assumed, 'cause of the cocky way he moves and his good looks, that he must get laid a lot. He's so pretty, he sure as hell should._ I feel strange -- sorry for him, even sad. But there's a part of me, a tiny part of me, that's glad he came to me for this. "It's okay," I tell him, even though I know it isn't. "Partners --"

"Do for each other," Darien chimes in. He raises his eyes to meet my gaze, and his strained expression changes to a smile. "I know."

I wanna do this for him. With him. Despite my nervousness, being with him isn't just good, it's incredible. But I don't know how to say that, without sounding sentimental. If he were a woman, I'd know just what to say; but he isn't, and I'm not sure how to tell him how I feel. Or even if I should. "So," I say bluntly instead. "Go ahead, Fawkesy. Let's do it."

Fawkes slides down a little, until his head's on a level with my chest. He shoots a teasing glance up at me. "Ready, Hobbesy? Here I come…." He leans in and breathes on my nipple. One hot little breath, and I feel both my nipples tighten. Then he starts to lick my left one. His tongue's hot, eager. His lips close around it, and I feel the edge of his teeth. I flinch in spite of myself, sucking in a breath. 

Fawkes stops instantly. "Sensitive there, hmm?" he asks, smiling. 

"Yeah." My face reddens, and for a second, I wonder if he'smaking fun of me again. 

But Darien smiles happily. "Good," he murmurs, closing his eyes. He gentles his caresses, sucking my nipple slowly, sensually. No more teeth, just the warm softness of his lips and tongue wrapping around me. Tugging at my nipple gently. Making it good for me.

And it's good. It's really, really good. 

It must feel that way to Darien, too, because all at once, I feel a cold wave pass over him, then over me; and we both go invisible. I shiver. It takes me a second to adjust to the temporary coldness, and the strange, black-and-white world he's plunged us into. _The hazards of making love with Invisible Boy…._

Darien just laughs, then goes back to what he was doing. He takes his time, licking and sucking both of my nipples again and again. He's getting me hard, and it feels delicious. I stroke his hair and back, trace the contours of his muscles while they slide under his skin. I've relaxed enough to go with the flow, let him set the pace. I've even closed my eyes again. At this point, I feel like he can do whatever the hell he wants to me, 'cause it all feels so good.

Darien murmurs, "Mmm. You taste good, Bobby."

"Yeah?" It's probably silly, but I feel this rush of pleasure. It's emotional rather than physical, but it blends with that, with the pleasure his talented mouth is giving me, sending a surge of warmth through me.

"Oh, yeah," Darien breathes. He keeps at it, licking and kissing and sucking back and forth across my chest, from one nipple to the other, like he's afraid they'll get jealous. "Delicious," he purrs, like a cat with a big dish of cream.

Darien's making me feel wanted. Sexy. More desirable than I've felt in years. I've gotten over the initial weirdness of having someone bigger and heavier on top of me, and now I'm enjoying it. I like touching him, feeling his muscles bunch and play when he moves, feeling how strong he is. I'm not thinking of this as letting Darien take control, though. I can't go that far yet. I'm not thinking much at all, I'm just feeling. Taking this new experience in. _It's not so bad._ _Aww, who am I kidding? It's fucking terrific! Damn, but he's good with that mouth!_ It's gentle, but it's also expert. Totally hot. Before long, I'm breathing hard, and my nipples and my cock are hard and throbbing. 

__

I was right, down on the beach. Put Darien and me together, and we're flammable! My heart's pounding, and I'm starting to feel like I'm on fire. It's all I can do not to moan, 'cause it's so fucking good, having his mouth on me. Darien's taking care of me for a change. Pleasing me, arousing me, instead of teasing me or hassling me for once. I love it. _I could get used to this…. Fuck, yeah!_

I bury my hands in his hair and caress it while he kisses down my stomach. But then I feel his hands pulling gently at my towel, and I stiffen a little. I know what that means, and I'm not sure if I'm ready. I don't mean to stop him, but I can't help myself. I grab his shoulder. "Darien, 

I --"

In a second, he's back up the bed. Kissing me, stopping my protests with his mouth. That warm, soft mouth that's so good at kissing, it takes my breath away. When he finally comes up for air, he says huskily, "It'll be good, Bobby. Come on. Just lemme make it good for you."

He's trying so hard to please me that I suddenly see how selfish I've been. _He just said he hasn't had sex in a long time, but I haven't done a damn thing for him so far. He's been doing all the work, and he doesn't even seem to mind. It's like he wants to turn me on more than he cares about getting off himself. _

Typical Fawkes. 

But he shouldn't have to do that. I feel a little ashamed of myself. I got lost in him, in all these new sensations: the weight of his hard, muscular body, the strength of his hands, the taste of his kisses, the sheer luxury of letting him make love to me…. _Everything's so different from what I'm used to, and so good, that I got distracted. I forgot about him, about giving anything back. _

This time, it's my turn to stop his words with kisses. I roll Fawkes over onto his back, and kiss him passionately. He sucks in a breath, like I surprised him. _Good_. _My turn to turn him on_. Before he can recover, I go deep with my tongue and dig my hands into his hair, 'cause I already found out he likes that. He goes nuts, whimpering and clutching at my back, digging his fingers into me while his heart rate goes wild. I grin to myself. _Oh, yeah. He likes that, all right_. 

I decide to find out what else he likes. See how he'll react to what he's been doing to me. So I reach down and find his nipples while I kiss him. I rub them gently, and he moans into my mouth. I rub a little harder, and his nipples start to harden, and he's groaning and arching against me. Digging his fingers into my back. _That's better_. I finally break the kiss. "Little sensitive there, huh?" I tease.

"Yeah." Even though I can't see him, I know he's grinning. 

"Good." 

Darien laughs, but I'm serious. I like foreplay almost as much as I like sex. Like to tease my lovers. Get 'em all worked up, all hot and bothered before the big event. So the more sensitive spots I can find on Fawkes, the better. I go looking for more. Can't see him very well anymore, but I can sure as hell feel him. So I trail kisses down his jaw and onto his chest, mapping his faintly glowing body with my mouth. And judging from the happy little moans I'm hearing, I don't think Fawkes minds too much.

__

Wonder why I was ever so freaked out by this. Why it took me so long to admit I wanted it. Darien's a good lover. Knows what he's doing. He's gentle. Generous. Hot. Being with him -- it's great. Like a dream. It's nothing to be afraid of.

Fawkes finally decides he's had enough fooling around, and he turns us over. When I'm on my back again, he reaches down and pulls at the knot tying my towel around my hips again. This time, I don't stop him. The towel falls away, and his hand slips lower. Curls around my erection and squeezes gently.

"Mmmph!" 

The jolt of pleasure's so sudden that I arch under him, groaning into his mouth, into his kiss. I've never had a hand that big and strong on my dick before. It feels electric. Amazing. I can't hold back anymore. When he finally lifts his head, I gasp, "Jesus, Darien! That's --"

"I know! " he says hoarsely. He buries his face in my shoulder. "Shh!" he whispers. "Don't move…."

I didn't realize how hard he is already. But I suddenly feel his cock throb against my belly. Breathing raggedly, he falls silent and tenses from head to toe, to keep from coming. I freeze too, like he asked. But the knowledge that he's that turned on just by touching my cock sends a wave of heat through me. I lie still, but my own arousal's growing. I try to ignore it, for his sake.

After a minute, I feel Darien relax. His racing heartbeat slows. I stroke his shoulder experimentally. "Okay?"

"Yeah." He still sounds a bit shaky, but he can talk, so I know he's back from the edge.

Holding him in my arms like this does funny things to me. It rushes over me again, how incredible it is being in bed with him, being close to him this way. It fills me up, how much he means to me. Can't put it into words just yet, but maybe I can show him how I feel instead. So I take his invisible head in my hands, pull it down and start kissing him in a different way. Slow and gentle. Not trying to turn him on, just tracing his face with my mouth, even though I can't really see it.

"Kid," I whisper softly. I kiss his cheeks, his forehead, even his nose. I do it over and over, showing him the affection I could never let him see before. _God, this feels so good. Physically, emotionally, and every way I can think of. It feels so damn good to be close to someone like this again…. To be making love again, not just having sex. I've been starving for this. For him._

Darien closes his eyes. I can tell, because suddenly I'm kissing his eyelids. "Bobby," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. He puts his forehead to mine like he did down on the beach, and holds on tight to me. I feel him tremble, hear his breath catch. "Oh God, Bobby…." 

It's enough. That whisper, that gesture tell me he understands how deep my feelings go; and that he feels the same way. This isn't just sex for either of us. It's a helluva lot more. Neither of us has to say that. We both know it.

*********************************************************************************

When my arousal dies away a bit, Bobby starts kissing me again. Not like before, though. This is different. Slow, soft, tender. At first, I think that holding still made his mood change somehow. Or that maybe he just wants to slow this down, slow me down. But when he takes my face in his hands and kisses me gently, so gently that I can hardly believe it, I realize, it's more than that. 

"Kid," he whispers, and there's so much affection in that word, it takes my breath. 

This -- it isn't about sex. Bobby's showing me a side of him I've only glimpsed before. The kind, gentle guy hidden deep inside the tough soldier/spy. He kisses me over and over. Takes his time, and showers me with tenderness so deep that it's amazing. No one, male or female, ever kissed me like that before. It makes me ache inside, because I know what he's trying to say. He's telling me it goes both ways. That he loves me as much as I love him. It's more than I ever hoped for, probably more than I even deserve. I've been alone for so long, it's almost more than I can stand. It moves me so deeply, I can't stay silent. But I'm way too choked up for any kind of speech, either. So I just say his name instead. "Bobby," I whisper, hearing my voice shaking, too. "God, Bobby."

It's a good thing he can't see me, 'cause I've got tears in my eyes. I don't want them to fall, though, or he might taste them. So I close my eyes, and just bask in Hobbes' unexpected sweetness, his love. I hold him close. Rest my forehead on his, like I did down on the beach, and bathe in his tenderness. Soak it up like a starving man. Which is who I was, before this. Before he gave me this…. 

We stay like that for awhile. Holding on and kissing each other. Not saying anything, but somehow saying everything, at the same time. 

Finally, it comes to me. It's time. Time to risk it all, and tell Bobby the truth.

Now or never.

**************************************************************************

The mood's changed between us. Turned serious. Darien turns visible again, and seconds later, I feel the quicksilver flaking off me too. I can see colors again, and I can see Darien looking down at me, his dark eyes wide and intent. "Bobby …. You know, when I told you before that I was scared?"

My heart turns over. He's talking about the beach again. I had a feeling he hadn't told me the whole truth about that yet. But I can see in his eyes, he's going to now. He's finally facing up to it, going to try to explain it. I'm relieved and scared all at once. "Yeah, babe," I say quietly. I reach up and touch his hair, wordlessly urging him to go on.

"I was -- I just --" He chokes, shaking his head helplessly. "I went swimming because I've been … so scared, for so long … that when I go quicksilver mad, I might hurt you," he whispers finally. "Even kill you."

Darien's voice is quiet agony. I stare up at him, a similar pain stabbing deep into me. This is what I've been afraid of all along. That he swam out into the ocean at midnight, never meaning to come back, because of me.

"You did it for me," I say hoarsely, the words like broken glass in my mouth. "Tried to off yourself -- 'cause o' me?"

Whatever last, faint hope I might've had that I was wrong about that, that I misunderstood him, dies when Fawkes nods miserably. "I thought … if I drowned, the gland would, too. They wouldn't be able to put it into someone else, that you'd get stuck guarding, too. It would just be gone, and you'd be safe." 

Damn, it hurts to hear that. Not just because I almost lost him, but because I misjudged him, too. I didn't think he was capable of sacrificing himself that way -- of love and courage like that. It also hurts because I know I don't deserve it. Because I never wanted him to do that, to offer his life up like that, for me. It's my worst nightmare. But I see the truth of it in his face, in the anguish in his eyes.

My own eyes fill with tears. _Jesus, kid. Fucking hell! How **could** you_? 

But I don't say that. I'm too overwhelmed to say anything. I pull him down to me with unsteady hands, and pillow his head on my chest. I don't think anyone ever loved me this much before in my whole life. Not even Viv. I kiss the top of his head. Hold him tight, while my heart beats a frantic tattoo in my chest. I'm scared. Shocked. Sad. I don't understand it, can hardly believe it. It feels like this big hole's yawned open inside of me. I don't know what the hell to say. What to do about it. Don't think Fawkes knows, either. He lets me hold him, but he doesn't say another word.

Pierced to the heart, I think, _God, he could've died! And I think if he did, I would, too_.

I feel my hands tremble as I run them through his hair. His crazy, silky, wild hair, that I love so much. It takes me a long time to get my voice back. When I do, I let him have it, 'cause of all the things I'm feeling, anger is somehow the easiest one to put into words. "That was fucking _stupid_!" I growl, my voice shaking. "What the hell were you _thinking_?"

I feel Fawkes wince, like I slapped him. He sucks in a breath and says in a low voice, "I dunno. Maybe …that you're the better man."

"_What_?"

He lifts his head and gives me a passionate look. "It's true! I'm just a thief, an ex-con --"

"No, you're not! You're a lot more'n that, my friend --"

"Think about it, Hobbes! You're a soldier! A combat veteran, an agent -- "

"What, you think I'm some kinda _hero_? Are you nuts? I'm just --"

"Don't say that! Look -- I'm _just_ a thief, but even so, you risk your life protecting me!"

My turn to shake my head. "Yeah, but there's a reason! Because you're the important one! Quit sayin' you're just a thief! It ain't true, and you know it! You're special, Fawkes. You got that expensive bioware in your head! You can turn invisible, you got an ability no one else has--"

Darien shakes his head. "You don't understand, Hobbes. That doesn't matter. Because it's not me. Not really. Don't you get it? It's just something they stuck in my head! Everything I've got, they gave me. What you've got, you earned! What you have is who you are -- and it's worth a hundred times more than that damn gland in my head. Don't you see the difference?"

"No." I frown up at him, shaking my head. _He's young, smart, beautiful -- and nobody gave that to him either, it's who **he** is. Plus, he can turn invisible. He's got me beat on every count. Ya ask me, he's got blinders on about himself. Can't see the forest for the trees_. But he's not listening to my doubts about his point of view. 

"You made your life count for something, dammit! You stood up for what you believe in. Protected it. Fought for it. You risked your life for your country, not just in the war but with the Agency, too! You do it every day!"

He's really surprising me. I never thought those things, those virtues I believe in, meant much to him. Don't think they did, when I first met him. When did this sea change start in him? It makes me proud, but I feel a little uncomfortable with his praise, even so. He's never said stuff like this to me before. I never realized there are things about me Fawkes admires that much. I'm not sure how to handle it, so I try to shrug it off. "I just do my job --"

"You do a helluva lot more than that, and you know it! I know it, too. You'd die for me, Bobby. So don't try to tell me I can't do the same for you!" Fawkes is really, truly pissed off now.

I'm getting there myself. I'm breathing fast, and I feel my face reddening, because I know I'm not getting through to him. "It ain't the same! Besides, I didn't ask you to do that!" I snarl, scared and frustrated. "I don't _want_ you to!"

"What're you saying?" he shoots back, dark eyes snapping, as furious as I am. "That it's okay for you to die for me, but it's not okay for me to risk my life for you?"

"Yeah! Now you got it!"

"That's _bullshit_!"

"Dammit, Fawkes! Think about what you did -- who you did it for! I ain't no hero, okay? I'm divorced, I'm pushin' forty, I got mental problems--"

But Fawkes is so worked up, he doesn't even listen. "Don't you get it? What counts is, you give, Bobby. To me, to your country, to the job. All I ever did was take. When we first met, all I gave you was grief. I didn't make it easy on you, but you protected me anyway. You taught me everything you know. You saved my life! Nobody ever did that for me before! You get that? Nobody! So I don't care how old you are, or that you were married before, or how many fucking prescriptions you take. You matter, dammit! _You matter to me_!" he yells.

I stare at him. Mexican stand-off, I think. We're both yelling and breathing hard, and I can tell from the look in his eyes that I could argue with him till doomsday about this, and never win. It's so weird -- I should be flattered by this. I know that. Maybe if he hadn't tried to off himself because of it, I would be. But he did, so all it does is scare me. I never expected devotion like this from him.

__

I don't wanna lose him because he loves me. _That'd kill me._

But I guess Fawkes's been living with that very same fear for awhile. It's part of what I see simmering in his eyes right now. It's part of the frustration that's fueling this fight. The realization of how far each of us would go for the other. I remember what he said, down on the beach: _I'd take a bullet for you, Bobby_. I've known for a long time, I'd take one for him, too. And he knows that. Guess it isn't fair to get pissed at him for feeling the same. I just never expected he'd take it even further than that. Dying in combat's one thing, but what he did -- taking that swim to protect me, when I wasn't even really in danger at the time -- that's something else. 

__

It was crazy. Demented. Wrong. But it's also probably the most amazing thing anyone's ever done for me. And here I am, ripping into him for it. Shit, what's the matter with me? 

I swallow hard. Take a deep breath, and try to get hold of myself. "Okay. Okay, I get that," I mutter, giving in a little. "I know what you mean. You matter to me, too."

Fawkes lets out a breath. Waves a hand, frustrated. "Then what the hell are we arguing about?"

I lock gazes with him. I have to make him see how wrong it was. "Suicide, my friend. I mean -- if either of us caught a bullet on the job, that'd be one thing. But just -- don't go lookin' for one. Especially not for my sake. I appreciate you tryin' to protect me, but don't do it like that. Don't give up, okay?"

Fawkes takes a deep breath. Looks away, and I see him trying to calm down. "Yeah, that was wrong. Too extreme. I know," he says at last. "I already said I wouldn't do that again. But I'm still --"

"Scared. I know," I cut in. "I know the madness is getting to you. But … I've been thinkin' about that."

He lifts his head, hope struggling with the darkness in his eyes. "Yeah?"

It's worth just about anything, that look. The way Fawkes believes in me, knows I'll try to set things right for him, no matter what. "I got an idea, about counteragent."

"What?" It's just a breath, and he tries to sound casual. He tries not to let me see how bad he wants to be rescued from the madness, but I know. I've always known. For a gentle guy like him, the madness is pure, unadulterated hell. Even if I hadn't see that already, his eyes give it away. They're fixed on me. Riveted. Praying for something, anything that could take his fear away.

"What if I get the Keeper to make me some extra juice every week? I could keep it in the van while we're out on the road --"

Fawkes shakes his head. "It's gotta be kept cold, Hobbes --"

I shrug. "So, I get a refrigeration unit put in the van."

He shakes his head grimly. "The Fat Man would never foot the bill for that."

"Screw him!" I cut in. "I'll pay for it if I have to. It wouldn't cost that much anyway, but then we'd always have some with us on the road. I could even take it home to my apartment every night, after work. That way, I'd have some on hand if you went red-eyed there, either. I could keep some with me wherever I go, so I could zap you if I had to. That way, you wouldn't have to worry about me." 

But Fawkes shakes his head again. "You're forgetting one thing, Hobbes."

"What?"

"The cost! Counteragent's expensive as hell."

I smile. "Don't you worry. I got that covered. We'll make the Fat Man pay for it."

Fawkes blinks at me, dubious but interested. "How?"

"You know that Scarborough guy? The con man posing as a psychic that we put away?" Rhetorical question. I don't think Fawkes will ever forget him, because we were on that case when he went nuts and tried to kill me. Scarborough's part of the despair that drove him out in the Pacific last night.

A shadow crosses Fawkes's face. "Yeah."

"Turns out, there was a big reward out on that guy. The Official got a hundred thousand for it, once he was behind bars. So the Fat Man owes us."

Darien's eyes widen. "I didn't know. How d'you know that?"

"Bobby Hobbes doesn't miss much, my friend," I smirk.

"Yeah, but how'd you find out?"

I finally give in and tell him. "After Scarborough went to jail, I saw Eberts and the Fish doing the dance o' joy one day in the Fat Man's office. The Official wouldn't tell me what it was about, so I tailed Eberts when he left. Got him alone, and made him 'fess up. Made him tell me what they were so happy about. So I know the Official's got the moolah to pay for some extra counteragent, partner. 'Cause I saw the check!"

Darien shakes his head admiringly, a little smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. "Pretty smart there, Hobbesy."

I shrug modestly. "I try."

"You're good," he says. "Still, the Fat Man's a hard case. Even with some extra cash, ya think he'll go for that? Ya think he'll be willing to spend some on me?"

I raise an eyebrow. "He will if I threaten to quit if he doesn't."

"I dunno, Bobby. Don't get me wrong, partner. I appreciate the thought, but … don't you think he'd just replace you, if you said that? You know how cheap he is --"

Fawkes the doubting Thomas. But I'm ready for him. I've thought it out. "No. And here's why. It'd cost him money to replace me. He'd have to raise the new guy's salary, and waste time training him, too. Besides, we could up the ante. Tighten the screws a little more. Tell him if he tries to replace me, you'll take off too. He'd take that seriously. 'Cause getting you back would cost him even more money, and lotsa trouble, to boot."

A slow smile starts to spread across Darien's face. "Yeah," he says, his eyes finally lighting up as he starts to buy my plan at long last. "It would, wouldn't it?"

"Yes it would, my friend." I smile back. "And if there's one thing the Fat Man hates, it's having his routine disrupted -- and having to _pay_ to get things back to normal. In the long run, having some extra counteragent made up for me'll be cheaper and easier than that."

"By George," Darien says softly, "I think you've got it!" I see it spreading through him, seizing him. Hope, probably the first real hope he's had in months. He grins down at me, overjoyed. Grabs my shoulders and shakes me. "Hobbesy, you're a genius!" He plants a kiss, a real smacker, right on the top of my head.

This time, I don't even pretend to look modest. "It is pretty smart, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's fucking brilliant!" Darien's so excited, he can't hold it in. He leans down and kisses me. Wildly, exuberantly. I take him in my arms again, and kiss him back.

Just like that, the mood shifts back to lust. It's not surprising, because Fawkes is jazzed. Practically vibrating in my arms. And I'm feeling pretty good myself, 'cause I know what a difference my plan makes to him. And because now I won't have to worry about him doing something crazy again to try to save me, either.

We practically attack each other. We roll over and over on the bed, and our kisses deepen and turn erotic again. Darien sucks at my shoulder, licks it, then bites it lightly. I shiver, and he gets even more intense. He sucks hard at my neck, working at it with tongue and teeth until I moan, knowing his rough kiss is going to leave a mark. But I don't care. Right this second, I wouldn't care if he gave me the biggest hickey anyone at the Agency's ever seen. I just want him to keep doing it.

Darien reaches down and starts stroking my cock again. "Mm, that's it, Bobby. Make some noise! I wanna hear you." His voice is thick with excitement. Like it turned him on, hearing me moan. 

That turns me on even more. _Was I thinking he could melt me? Damn right! At this rate, I'm gonna end up being this little puddle on the sheets, before he's done._

"Okay," I say breathlessly. "Do that again!"

"Just a second." All at once, Fawkes lets go of me and sits up. 

"What the --?" For a second, I think he's stopping, and I consider strangling him. Then I hear the sound of a zipper, and I see he's just taking off his jeans. In about ten seconds, they go flying to the end of the bed. 

Darien comes back to me naked and smiling, with hunger heating up his eyes. He leans down and bites my ear, sucking at the lobe until I shiver. "I wanna hold you while I do it," he whispers. 

I smile a little. Yesterday, that would've surprised me. Not anymore. And I guess I forgive him for letting go of my dick for a second, after all. "Okay."

But it's better than okay. When Fawkes wraps his long arms and legs around me from behind, it's amazing. _I've never felt anything like this. Never had a guy all wrapped around me before. Never been with anyone that I didn't know I could stop, before. It's weird, but that's kinda exciting. _

Darien's big and warm and hard against my back. I can feel his cock throbbing against me, feel him breathing hot, ragged breaths into my neck. It feels so incredibly good that I have to reach down and clamp down hard on my dick for a minute, to keep from coming.

"Gimme," Darien whispers greedily. He bats my hands away, takes my cock in his hand again and starts stroking me. Long, strong, knowing strokes, with just the right amount of pressure….

*****************************************************************************************************************************

It's been so long since I've had sex with anyone I care about, I'd pretty much forgotten how powerful it can be with someone like that.

Bobby makes me remember. I want to be gentle with him this first time, but it's hard. My need for him's so deep, so intense it drove me to the brink of death. So now, being able to hold him, touch him, kiss him, bury my nose in the hollow of his shoulder and inhale his scent…. It's overwhelming. It's freedom of the most exciting kind, a freedom I never thought I'd have. He makes me feel greedy. Insatiable. So hungry that it's almost impossible to control myself. I have to rein myself in, to keep from devouring him. Maybe because part of me never thought this could happen. Deep down, I always believed Bobby was out of reach. Untouchable, at least by me. 

But now he's with me. Even though he knows the truth about my swim now, he didn't change his mind. Didn't leave me. He's naked in my arms, and I've got his cock in my hand. His cock's beautiful: solid and strong, just like him, and just the right size. After such a long time alone, just holding it -- touching the heart of him like this -- is amazing. It's pleasure so deep it's like pain, so sharp that it makes me shudder.

Bobby's cock moves in my hand. Stirs and hardens at my touch, and that cuts through me. Sends me to the brink, in a second. 

"Shhh," I whisper, freezing against him as my cock throbs painfully. "Don't move!" Thank God, Bobby understands what's going on. He lies still in my arms for a minute. Even so, I have to tighten every muscle in my body, to keep from coming. I close my eyes and try to calm down, to slow my panting breaths and racing heart. To put off the ultimate pleasure, which I already know is gonna be better than I ever imagined. Holding back is a delicious kind of torture. 

__

I can't come yet. I wanna make this good for Bobby. So good….

*************************************************************************************************

I shudder with the unexpected pleasure of Darien's firm, strong strokes on my cock. I almost come unglued. "Oh yeah," I pant. "Like that! That's good, that's _so good!_ Do it!" I sound like a slut, and I don't care. I'd say anything, to get more of that. 

I hear Fawkes catch his breath, like I surprised him again. Then, sounding almost smug, he asks, "You like that, huh?"

I waver for a second. _He's already way too conceited. If I tell him what a great lover he is, it'll only get worse. Then again, he's got both hands wrapped around my dick. So maybe a little encouragement wouldn't hurt_. So I give in and tell him the truth, half afraid he might stop if I don't. "Hell yeah!" I breathe.

"Okay then. You got it, Bobby." Guess honesty really does pay, because that compliment did the trick. Fawkes really starts working me. Fisting my cock from root to tip with his big, strong, slender hands. Harder and faster than he was before. _He's good at this, too. _Then he changes his approach. One hand starts playing with the head of my cock, while the other goes lower and strokes my balls. Then the hand on my cock goes back to pumping me even harder.

The sensations are almost overwhelming. Fawkes is heat and strength and muscle overlaid with warm, satiny skin and strong, talented hands. He's all over me, all over my cock, my neck and my cheek, kissing me feverishly while he works me. Suddenly, it's more than I can handle. Pleasure surges through me, so sudden and powerful that I almost come up off the bed. I tear my mouth away from his. I think it might kill me. I'm not sure I'd care if it did. I writhe in his hold, and I hear myself crying out, at this intense burst of excitement that I can't control.I realize it's gonna be over way too soon, but I can't stop it. I try to tell Darien I'm sorry, but all that comes out is this loud, wild groan. "Ohhhh!" _I'm gonna come_….

****************************************************************************************************

I start licking him, kissing him, sucking at his skin, even biting him lightly until Bobby gasps, until he moans deep in his throat. It's this awesome sound, part surprise and part rough, animal pleasure. That sound arrows through me. I feel this huge, almost obscene satisfaction, that I can do this to him. For him.

__

Maybe, in some way, this'll start to make up for what I did to him when I took that swim…. I think he's forgotten about that right now. I wanna make sure he does.

I keep stroking him, making love to his cock. Taking him higher. _The only way it could be better is if I could suck or fuck him, but I know it's too soon for that. He'd freak, and I don't wanna scare him. Besides, even this is more than I really thought could happen. _

"That's good, that's _so good!_ Do it!" Bobby urges hoarsely, clutching at me. 

__

That's mind-blowing. _He wants more! _It's almost too good to be true, almost too much to believe. "You like that, huh?" Conceited punk that I am, I want to hear him say it. But for a second, I wonder if Bobby's gonna throttle me for that bit of vanity. Instead, he manages to gasp, "Hell yeah!"

__

Wow. A ringing endorsement; and at a time like this, too. Nice. I feel a grin nearly split my face. _Oh, yeah -- he wants me_. 

__

But not half as much as I want him. "Okay then. You got it, Bobby."

I want everything. _I already told him I want to hear him, but I want to **feel** him come, too_. _See if I can make him come with just my hands._

I do what he wants, what we both want. I jack his cock and stroke his balls. Faster and faster, while I kiss his neck. I do everything I can to turn him on, until he's panting. Until I feel him hit the edge. His balls tighten, and he shivers and cries out. This long, hoarse moan that feels like it came from the soles of his feet. _He's close, he's so close_…. 

But I feel him straining, trying to hold back, not to come. He's probably thinking I don't want him to yet, but he's wrong. To me, it's a rush. It's the ultimate compliment, that I got him so excited just by touching him that he couldn't hold back long. _I want it to happen fast. I want him to go over the edge in my hands, in my arms._ _Now._

I suck hard at his neck, licking, then biting him. I squeeze his cock until he groans. Excited, I fist him even harder while I whisper in his ear. "That's it! Do it, Bobby! Come! Come _now!"_ It's an order, as hot and fierce as I can make it. 

Bobby surprises me again by obeying it. He comes for me, his cock spurting hotly over my fingers. He comes hard, crying out, his eyes closed, his whole body jerking in my arms. And it's good, it's so fucking good, I almost come too, from the pleasure of doing that to him. I'm so close, I feel myself shaking. I have to bite my lip until it hurts, close my eyes and hold completely still again, to keep from going over the edge with him. 

But I manage it. Just. I hold myself back, wanting to feel Bobby's orgasm first. I hold him tight all the way through it, while he cries out, while he covers my hands with his come. I don't let him go, because I want to feel all of it: every shiver, every pulse of his cock, every drop of his come, every racing heartbeat. Everything he's feeling. It's incredible. 

The really amazing thing is, Bobby lets me do it. He doesn't pull away, doesn't try to hide his pleasure, his hot, passionate reaction to what I just did to him. He lets me in, lets me hold him tight through it all, and it's wonderful. Way more than I expected. Even when he's done, he doesn't pull away. He just lies there in my arms, shaking and breathing hard. I love that, too. I soak it all up, drink in every gasp, every little moan. I get off on it. It's better than a drug. 

It's so good, and I'm so close myself, that I can't wait any more.

***********************************************************************************************************

I lie there feeling dizzy. _I can't believe it. Me, Bobby Hobbes -- I did it with a guy, with a man -- and it was better than any sex I ever had. Even better than it used to be with Viv. Hell, I came so hard that for a second, I thought I was gonna pass out! And it's the first time we ever did it. Jesus. First times are supposed to be bad. Awkward. But this…. It blew me away_. 

Now that it's over, I don't move. I just lie still, trying to catch my breath. Trying to take it all in. I feel strange, like I just burst through some barrier I never even knew was inside me. Like maybe this is where I was meant to be. Like I've been heading for this place, for this guy my whole life, without even knowing it. In some weird way, I'm finally home.

Darien's talking to me, asking me something, but my heart's still pounding so hard, I can't really hear him. I just nod, hoping that's enough. 

************************************************************************************************************

"You okay, Bobby?" 

Hobbes manages a nod. _But I think he's still out there somewhere. His eyes are still closed, he's breathing hard, and I'm not sure he even knows what he's saying yet._

I want him so bad, I have to make a heroic effort not to jump him again, before he's even got his breath back. I let go of him, and try to calm my pounding heart. In a few seconds, I watch the Quicksilver flake off Bobby, and he becomes visible again. It rains off me too, and I reach down and grab his towel so I can wipe my hands off. 

I look at Bobby while I clean up. His golden brown skin, fevered now with sex sweat. _Christ, I gotta have him!_ So once my hands are clean, I say, "Good. Turn over, then." 

Bobby's still dazed. Half out of it. Wasted, from the force of what just happened. "Whaa?" he croaks, blinking. 

"Over on your side," I insist, taking ruthless advantage of his temporary weakness. 

Bobby moans a little in protest, but he does it. He rolls over onto his left side, giving me a close-up view of his back and shoulders -- and his ass. His beautiful, muscular ass. I can't resist it. I reach down, take it in both hands, and squeeze it. Caress it. He's warm and solid in my grip, and he shivers. _Damn! It's been awhile. I'd almost forgotten how good it feels, being with a man. _

I bury my face in the back of his neck and kiss him. Breathe deep, and fill my lungs with his scent. He smells so good. Like soap and sweat and sex and some other, faintly musky scent that's just him. I can feel my own arousal throbbing, pulsing like some huge engine inside my body. Shaking me, as my heart speeds up and we go invisible again. I shiver, so aroused that even the coldness feels erotic.

"My turn," I say hoarsely.

**************************************************************************************************************************

__

Oh my God. Darien asks me to turn over, then starts touching my ass. Squeezing it. Incredibly, I feel another little thrill. Feel myself shiver at his warm, strong touch. _Haven't even got my breath back from our first fuck yet, and he's already turning me on again. It's almost scary. No, it is scary. What's he up to back there?_

"My turn," he says, and his voice is thick with desire. 

__

Again? He's gonna do it **again**? 

But when Darien kisses the back of my neck, and I feel his hard cock against my back again, I realize why he's in such a hurry: he didn't come yet. So I don't protest, even when I feel him go cold against me, and I know he's turning us both invisible again. I know he can't help it, his adrenaline just triggers the gland. So I lie still while all the color leaches from the room around us and we both turn cold again, because I want him to get his, too. Until I realize what he's about to do. How he's gonna do it this time. Then I freeze. 

"Uh, Darien … 'member what I said before, about not goin' crazy here?" 

Darien's voice is a bit hoarse. "Shh," he whispers, kissing gently down the side of my neck. "Don't you trust me?"

That gets me where I live. _He's got a point. He's bigger and stronger than me. He could've tried to fuck me just now, if that's what he wanted. I'm not sure I would've even tried to stop him. But he didn't. He was gentle. Got me off without hurting me. It was great, and he did it for me. How can I not trust him after that?_

I swallow hard. "Yeah," I say gruffly. "Course I trust you."

**************************************************************************************************************************

__

Bobby said it. He trusts me. I close my eyes, and let that flow through me. Let it settle into my bones, into the heavy, dark need that's coursing through me. _Bobby trusts me. He wants me. He's **mine**_, I think. I feel primitive. Hot. Savage. Like I'd kill anyone who tried to stop this now, or to get between us. _I can't make myself leave him even long enough to get some lube. But it's okay, I don't have to penetrate him to get off. There's other ways_. I take him in my arms again, press myself against his back, and slide my hard, aching cock into the crack of his ass. I thrust a little, back and forth between his butt cheeks.

Bobby inhales sharply, nervous again in spite of what he just said. But I don't stop_. I know this won't hurt him, and God, I've wanted this for so long. So long_…. _I need this. Need it more than I need air. I can't stop_ --

I slide my hands down. Grab his hips, and hold him to me tightly.

"Darien, what the --?" 

Bobby tries to move, to turn his head or maybe turn over, but I slip one arm around him, tighten my already firm grip on his hip with the other hand, and hold him fast. "Shh," I murmur. I don't want him to freak and try to fight this. I won't hurt him, but I don't feel like talking now, or explaining myself, either. A minute ago, I gave. Now I'm so far gone, so aroused that I just need to take. I've found this nice, warm home for my dick, and it feels so good, I can't stop now. 

"Trust me," I murmur_._ I use my strength, my weight to hold Hobbes tight, keep him close, so he can't get away. Then I start to move.

Bobby gasps and shivers. In shock or surprise, I don't know, but it gets to me. I moan out loud, rocking my dick back and forth against his ass, and the friction and heat are ecstasy. _It's not as good as being in him, but it's close, and this way, I won't hurt him. _My cock's hard and throbbing. I can hear Bobby breathing fast, feel his heart racing while I thrust, and it feels so fantastic, I can hardly stand it. Even though I'm not inside him, it's exciting, using Bobby's ass cheeks to get off like this. And the fact that he's letting me do it, letting me do whatever I want to him, letting me go crazy on him…. That's the biggest aphrodisiac of all.

__

Oh God -- Bobby! 

I'm groaning. Panting. I'm so hard, I hurt. My balls are drawing up, and I know I can't last much longer. I'm way past words now. I'm just mindless, aching need. I keep thrusting. Faster and faster, until I'm humping him furiously. Driving against him, pumping hard, punishing my cock and balls against his ass until the friction, the heat and Bobby's moans finally give me the release I need.

"_Ohhhhh!"_ My cock pulses, then explodes. I hear myself groan, or am I screaming? I don't know. Don't care. I just shatter, and it's stronger than any orgasm I've had in years. Maybe ever. All I can do is lie there, heart pounding, cock spurting, cries ripping from my throat, shaking from head to foot with the power of it. Then I hear Bobby moan too, and I realize, with a distant sense of surprise, that he just came for the second time. 

That wrings another moan out of me. I wonder if this much pleasure will kill me. 

__

If it does, then I'll die a happy thief, baby. _Oh, yeah._

I don't know how long it is before I can move. But eventually, the Quicksilver drops off us both, and we're visible again. When I come back to myself, I realize that I've still got Bobby wrapped in a near strangle-hold in my arms, and that we're both sticky with what feels like rivers of my come. Well, ours, actually. I let go a little, and stroke his arm. 

"Hey, Darien," he says softly, in that tone that means, _You okay? _He still sounds breathless. I like that. 

"Hey, Bobby." I smile back, meaning, _Never better_. _There's no need to ask if Bobby's okay. He's lying in my arms trying to get his breath back, but he's not going anywhere_. _He's not even trying to pull away from me; and that's…. Well, damn, I figure that's as close to heaven as an ex-thief like me is allowed to get. _I bend my head and kiss his shoulder. He doesn't say a word, he just covers my hand with his. He's there with me, right there like he always is. I don't have to say a word, because he knows everything I'm feeling. 

__

Telepathy, I think shakily. _Helluva time saver_. 

Even though I know that's not all there is to it, I don't need any more words, myself. I just wanna hold him. So I do. I hold onto Bobby Hobbes for dear life, feeling light-headed. Shaky. Victorious_. Like I just saved the whole fucking world. Well, maybe the two of us, anyway. _

But that's enough. For the last few minutes, there was nothing between us. _No borders. No distinctions. There was nothing pure or impure in this bed. Just us. Me and Bobby. For the first time since they put the damn gland in my head, I don't even mind being a freak. Or that Bobby thinks he's one, too. 'Cause there's no way in hell he'd've ever stayed alone so long -- been alone long enough to wind up here with me, otherwise. If Bobby had half the confidence he should have, he'd've been out there fishing, and someone would've snapped him up by now. Instead, he's here with me; and I'm still selfish enough to be incredibly grateful for that._

"Thank you, St. Dismas," I whisper to myself, smiling as I remember Father Tom, and my early Catholic education.

"Who the hell's that?" Bobby asks, bemused.

I grin against his chest. "You never heard of Dismas?"

"Doesn't exactly sound Jewish," Bobby snorts.

"Nope. He's the patron saint of thieves, my friend."

Bobby laughs. "Izzat right? Still … I'm not sure it's him you oughtta be thankin' right now, ya know?"

He sounds disgustingly smug. I love it. I press a kiss into his chest. "I know."

Bobby ruffles my hair gently, and I can feel him smiling.

Oh yeah. I know just who to thank, and why. My handsome, paranoid, wacky, beloved little partner. For everything. But most of all, for the fact that he didn't judge me. Didn't condemn me. He let me in, let me make love to him. Even though I know this was his first time with a guy, and he was nervous as hell, he still trusted me. He didn't hold anything back. He did more than just think outside the lines. He crossed a big one, for me. Hell, he ran over it. Bulldozed it. Full speed ahead, and damn the torpedoes.

"Thank you, Bobby Hobbes. Oh, and by the way, just so you know -- I love you,"I tell him, holding on.

**************************************************************************************************************************

__

So. Dismas is the patron saint of thieves, huh? How the hell does Fawkes know that? _Mr. "I'm Not Superstitious?"_ _He keeps surprising me, the things he knows. The things he does…. Even though I'm Jewish, maybe I oughtta say a few prayers to that Dismas guy myself. If Dismas is the one who helped me find Fawkes out in that dark water last night, then thanks, for watching over this one thief in particular for me_. 

Fawkes is talking again. Murmuring something against my chest. He kisses it softly, and I hear him whisper, "…just so you know -- I love you." 

That slays me.

__

I used to think he'd never steal anything from me. I was wrong. Somehow, while I wasn't looking, he stole something really important. Something big. My heart. Funny thing is, I don't care. In fact, I think I'm glad he did. _And now that he's promised not to try to off himself like that again, and I've figured out a way around his counteragent problem, maybe we can both relax and enjoy it._

I know I am. I can't remember the last time I was this happy. _Ain't love grand, _I think_. Sure feels that way to me._

I run my fingers through Darien's hair and smile. "Same here, kid."

****

THE END


	4. Distinctions

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Author: Devyn Lyonesse

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Email address: dlyonesse@hotmail.com

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Fandom: Invisible Man

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Disclaimers: The usual. Don't own 'em, wish I did. Yadda, yadda.

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Category: Slash, romance, drama, episode coda, angst

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Pairing: Darien/Bobby 

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Rating: NC-17 

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Spoilers: A few for "Ralph" and "Tiresias"

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Archiving: Anyone who wants to, please ask me first.

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Series note: This is story #2 in my slash series, "Thief of Hearts". 

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Summary: Having rescued Darien from a watery death, a tired Bobby Hobbes has to decide how best to take care of his wet, confused, yet very sexy partner.

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Author's notes: This is set after the events in "Tieresias", in a slightly alternate universe. If you like slash with angst and romance, try this. And please bear in mind, the author deeply appreciates feedback. Oh yeah! Kinda the way Darien craves counteragent. Only without the red-eye problem. : )

March 16, 2002

Distinctions

© Devyn Lyonesse

Fawkes and I don't talk much on the way back to my van. _We're both tired and freaked. It's been a helluva night. We probably learned more about each other tonight than we did in the past six months. Not all of it was good. Some of it -- like Fawkes trying to off himself -- was fucking scary. But some of it was amazing. _

Darien naked…. His mouth on mine, his heart beating against my chest…. 

Amazing.

I look over at Fawkes while we trudge through the sand. _He seems a little better now. He looks tired, but not totally down. Not like he's carrying the world on his shoulders anymore. Maybe the crying helped._ _Or maybe -- maybe it was the kiss._

The thought makes me hot all over again. But I know I could be wrong. Wouldn't be the first time. And I don't want to get my hopes up, so I don't touch him. Darien doesn't touch me either. We walk side by side, like always, except this time, we're both careful not to get too close. No accidental touching or bumping. _Like the fate of the free world hangs in the balance, or something. _That's so silly, it makes me smile. 

__

Then again, maybe we're just afraid we might lose control if we touch again. That's not so dumb. I look at the way his wet hair curls around the back of his neck as we walk, and my mouth goes dry. Just from looking. _Yeah, that's probably it -- the touching thing._

Finally, as we head for the stairs, Darien asks, "How'd you find me?" 

__

Wondered how long it was gonna take him to think of that. I grin. "You can run, but you can't hide, Invisible Boy."

"No, really. How'd you know where I was? I went see-through, so you couldn't've followed me…." Fawkes stops at the foot of the stairs. Turns and looks at me, all wide-eyed and intent, like he's not going a step further until I tell him.

__

At least his curiosity's coming back. Maybe that's a good sign. Or it could be that he's just tired, and trying to distract me so he can put off climbing the stairs._ Either way, I'm not about to give in. Can't give away all my secrets. _So I just wave him on. "Tell ya what, Fawkes. If you get your ass in gear and start climbing, maybe I'll tell ya when we get back to the van."

Darien rolls his eyes. "Geez. Why don'tcha just offer me a lolly pop?" he complains. Still, he starts walking up the stairs, like I told him.

I smirk at his back. "Left 'em all in the van. But if you're really good, you can have one when we get there."

Fawkes snorts and shakes his head, but he keeps on climbing. _Like a good little son_, I think, grinning to myself. But then I get this image in my mind: _Darien's full lips wrapped around a sucker. Licking the hell out of it, and -- whoa, boy. Maybe I don't really think of myself as his dad, after all. 'Cause a dad wouldn't have thoughts like that about his son._

************************

I look out the window while Hobbes drives. I'm tired. Drained. Hell, I'm exhausted. Inside and out. After bottoming out emotionally, going for that long swim, and towing Bobby halfway back, I feel half dead. No -- make that mostly dead. My arms and legs ache, and I've got sand sticking to parts of me that I don't even want to think about. But I can't relax, because I'm still stirred up inside. I've got all these thoughts and feelings roiling inside, that won't let me rest. 

__

I still don't know how Bobby found me. But God, I'm glad he did. _I can't believe I did that!_ _That long swim, that cold water…. It already seems like a dream. Like it happened to somebody else. Like that was some other guy out there naked in the ocean, trying to leave his life behind. But I know it was real. That was me. It's fucking scary_. _The only time I ever tried anything like that before was when I first wound up in prison. Never thought I'd get that down again_. 

I keep thinking, _I could be dead now. If it wasn't for Bobby, I would be._

It gives me the shivers. 

__

Still -- things're looking up. I'm warming up, drying off, and I'm with Bobby. So death doesn't seem like such an attractive prospect right now. In fact, it seems like one of the dumber ideas I've had lately. Still hate the thought of taking up my life as a government slave again, but if I can talk to Hobbes about the worst of it, about how scared I am of the Quicksilver madness, then maybe it'll get better. Maybe between the two of us, we can work out some way to keep him safe.

And above all that dark stuff, high above all my worries and fears, floating feather light, is the memory of that kiss. 

__

Bobby came for me. Held me. Kissed me….

What does that mean? 

I chew my lip. _Maybe nothing. I'm a guy, he's a guy -- guys do crazy, horny things all the time. Half of 'em don't mean anything, except that we're horny. Wonder if that kiss on the beach was like that. Maybe Bobby just got curious. Or maybe he was just humoring me. He knows I want him now, so maybe he just gave me that kiss to make me feel better. Maybe he just let it happen, without really wanting it to. For my sake. _

Then a darker thought crosses my mind. _He's so protective … just how far would he go, for my sake? Was that kiss just a ploy? Did he have some corny idea that his kiss would give me a reason to live?_

Well … maybe. Okay, so maybe it did.

But I hate the idea that he might've done it for that reason, and not because he's hot for me. I've always hated being jerked around, and this past year, I've been manipulated so much -- by everyone from Swiss terrorists to most of the staff at the Agency -- that I might as well have a big "Kick Me" sign on my back. It kills me to think Bobby might do that to me, too. That he'd kiss me just to perk me up, with no intention of following through. That sucks! Big time. 

I don't want to believe that's true. My ego sure doesn't. _Besides, it's not like Hobbes, either._ _He's never lied to me. He's probably the most honest person I've ever known_. I look over at him. Search his face for clues to the puzzle. For hints of manipulation, or some real interest in me. But I don't see either one. _Bobby's quiet. Watching the traffic. His lips are pursed_. _He looks thoughtful, like he's got a lot on his mind. But whatever it is, he's not in the mood to share._

Dammit! 

Down on the beach, I felt close to him. Now, he's shutting me out again. That makes me feel resentful, even sullen. For a second, I almost lash out at him. _What the hell was that about, huh? Down on the beach? Did you really kiss me, or was that just a dream?_

Then I notice that Hobbes' clothes are still damp and sticking to him, and that his hair's wet too, like mine. _Stupid question. That whole thing -- the swim, the way I cried, and our kiss -- it was real, and I came close. Damn close to dying. I think we both did. _

My momentary anger fades. My emotions veer again, from anger and suspicion back to gratitude. _So what if that kiss didn't mean a goddamn thing? He still saved me._ _I owe Bobby my life. _I look away, back out the window into the night. _Compared to that, a kiss is nothing._

__

So I won't ask him what the kiss meant. Not yet. I owe him that much. Or maybe I'm just afraid to know the truth. Or too damn tired to deal with it. Either way, I guess now's not the time. So I rub my arms, trying to work out the soreness in my biceps after that long swim, and search for something else to say.

"Where're we going?" I try to make the question sound casual, but it really isn't. _I'm afraid Hobbes is just gonna take me home and leave me there. With lots of unanswered questions. With no one to talk to. _I don't want that. I still feel shaky. Not like myself.

I need him, I just can't say it.

"To my place," Hobbes answers. "Least that way, I can keep an eye on you."

I feel this little rush of emotion. Warmer than gratitude, softer than desire. _Good! He's not leaving me_. _But I wonder if it has anything to do with that kiss, or if he's just being protective? Then again, what does it matter why he's taking me home? I get to be with him, which is what I want. For now, that's enough_. _And at least over at his place, I won't have to worry about anyone busting in on us, trying to kidnap or kill me. Bobby's got a helluva security system. Besides, he _is_ his own security system. Bobby's dangerous. I pity the poor fool who tries to bust into his place. He'd be sorry. Then he'd be dead._

But I'm not. Thanks to Bobby, I'm neither of those things. Instead, I'm glad that he decided to take me home with him. _Nice of him to do this for me. Lots of guys wouldn't_. So I open my mouth to thank him, but pride makes me change my mind at the last second. _After all, I'm supposed to be the big, bad Invisible Man -- not Needy, Clingy, Helpless Man. _So even though that's how I feel, I swallow the thanks, stifle the impulse to reach out to him, and play it cool instead.

"Okay. If you insist," I shrug. I try to sound like I don't really care. Like I'm fine, like I'm tough, like what just happened didn't scare the hell out of me. Like I'm only going to Hobbes' place to humor him, not because I'm terrified of being alone. 

__

Dunno why I'm putting up this front, though. Especially after what happened down on the beach. I didn't just tell him I was scared, I actually broke down and cried in his arms like a girl. Even though he didn't razz me about it, I doubt Hobbes has any illusions about my ability to cope, after that. _Maybe I'm just feeling weird 'cause he's suddenly gone quiet, and put some distance between us again. What happened down on the beach felt so right, but he hasn't touched me, or even looked at me like that since._

It's scary._ Wonder if he regrets our kiss_? 

That thought hurts. To cover it, I just stay on my side of the van, and try to look tough. Impervious. Uncaring. Like the total punk I know Hobbes thought I was, when we first met. But my little act works all too well. Because Hobbes shoots a glance at me, then his mouth tightens like he's pissed off. He shakes his head silently, but I know what he's thinking. I can read his face like a book, and right now, it's saying, _Fawkes, you ungrateful bastard._

__

Uh oh! Maybe I went a little overboard there. _Didn't mean to piss him off_. "I mean … I'm okay now, Bobby. Really," I say hastily, trying to make up for it. "So if you want, you can just -- take me back to my place. I don't wanna … you know. Cause you any trouble."

Hobbes snorts, and shakes his head again. "Shoulda thought o' that before you went swimmin', my friend." 

__

Ouch. _He's right. He's SO fucking right!_ _He probably didn't follow me half a mile out into the ocean just because he loves to swim. I must've scared the shit out of him._ I hang my head. _I already tried to say I was sorry for that on the beach, but I know it wasn't enough. _

I know what might be enough, though. _I promised myself I'd talk this out with him_. _Maybe this is the time._ _Maybe I should say it. Tell the truth. Try to explain. Tell him I did it for him, because I wanted to protect him_. 

Then I remember how he looked, when I said I'd take a bullet for him. _I stopped short of telling him the truth, that I'd die for him, but he still looked like it scared him silly. So if I tell him I took that swim for him, he'll probably freak. _

I think about his fear for a minute. Try to figure out where it might come from. _Maybe it's because he feels responsible somehow. That'd make sense, 'cause that's how Bobby is. He takes the world on his shoulders. Including me, and all my problems. I don't want him to feel worse about it than he already does, but I'm too tired to lie to him. If I start talking now, the truth would come out. So maybe I'd better wait_. _He's already been through a lot tonight, because of me._

So I lay my head back on the seat, close my eyes, and shut my mouth too. _At least that way, I won't get in any more trouble._

But I can feel Hobbes looking at me. Finally, he says quietly, "It's Friday night, Fawkes. We don't haveta work tomorrow, so it's no big deal if you stay over. We got no alarm to get up for. We can sleep in. Okay?"

I may be an ungrateful bastard, but it seems that Bobby's forgiven me anyway. And this time, I know better than to even pretend that I don't care. I open my eyes and smile at him. "Sounds good. Are you sure?" 

A slow smile spreads across Hobbes' face, too. "Yeah. Just one thing, though. No goin' invisible this time. I want you where I can see you."

__

Now that sounds interesting, I think, my hopes flaring again. _That sounds really_ -- _did he just say he **wants** me? _Tired as I am, something inside me perks right up at that. I sit up and smile at him. "Yeah?" I say it softly. Maybe even a little flirty. 

But Bobby doesn't respond. At least, not like I want him to. He just gives me this curt, "Yeah." Then he turns away, and stares straight ahead at the freeway like he's embarrassed_. Usually, I can't resist that. Teasing Bobby when he's embarrassed is like sipping really good champagne. It's pure fun. Goes to my head. And now that I know he blushes, well…. _I open my mouth to indulge myself, to tease him, to start prying into it. Force him to tell me if he really was flirting with me there.

But I change my mind at the last minute, and shut it again. Tonight, for once, I decide to cut Bobby some slack. _He just saved my ass, and he's taking me home to boot. So I guess the least I can do is lay off the teasing. For now, anyway. Tomorrow, of course, all bets will be off again. But just for tonight, I'll be good._

I lean back against the seat again, filled with good intentions. Shining with virtue. Darien the Good Boy, with mouth firmly zipped.

That lasts about all of ten seconds. Then I get this annoying, internal itch. _This goes against the grain_. _Not teasing Bobby's like -- well, like not eating chocolate or something. It sucks. _

I want -- no, I need -- to do something. Hmm. Well, if I can't tease him, I can at least scope him out. Feast my eyes…. So instead of going to sleep, I just pretend to close my eyes, and lie there watching him from underneath my lashes instead. _It's this little trick I learned in prison. It still comes in handy once in awhile._ _Like when I want a little eye candy. Like now…._

While I study Hobbes on the sly, the sarcastic part of me has a field day. _What're you doing? What're you hoping for, anyway? You really think Hobbes will blush again? Or give you another hot stare?_ _Hey, maybe if you get real lucky, he'll blurt out a spontaneous confession! Tell you all his secrets! Like what he meant by that kiss, and how he feels about you. Oh, yeah, Fawkes. That's right! He's gonna say he's madly in love. That it's you, only you, and that he's really taking you back to his place for a night of wild, passionate --._

Shut up, I tell it sourly. _It could happen!_

But I don't really believe that. _I'm not even really sure Bobby wants me. Not right now. I was sure of it down on the beach, I was sure as hell when he kissed me, but now…. Now that I've had time to think…_

Insecurity rears its ugly head again.

__

It just doesn't seem possible. Hobbes doesn't trust people easily. Doesn't like to let them in. I mean, I know I'm a bit of an exception. He let me in to a certain extent; he proved that tonight. There's a kind of love there, and it's real. I know it. I feel it. It's why he came after me tonight. But there's a lot of different kinds of love. So the question is, what kind is it, exactly, that Robert Hobbes feels for me? Out in the water, I was sure it was the friend type. Brotherly love. Sometimes he treats me like I'm his little brother or something. Like a kid. And even though I blew up at him earlier for calling me that, I usually don't really mind it. Hell, most of the time, I kinda like it. I miss my own brother, and in some ways, I think Bobby's taken Kevin's place for me. It's nice, knowing someone's looking out for you. Watching your back. And Hobbes is a helluva lot better at that, at the bodyguard thing, than Kevin the geek could've ever dreamed of being. 

Hobbes rocks at guarding me.

But the other kind of love -- the kind I want, the kind I need, the kind I finally figured out that I feel for Bobby -- that's not kid stuff. It's more than just affection, and way beyond anything nice, or safe. It's raw and powerful, and it goes deep. Deeper than I ever dreamed. I found that out tonight, at his apartment and down on the beach. I knew I shouldn't do it, shouldn't come on to him, but I just couldn't stop myself. But I still don't know if Hobbes feels anything like that for me.

I'm not even sure if I think it's unlikely because of him, or because of me. Because Hobbes is straight, or because I was crooked in so many ways. I mean, I'm trying to do better now, trying to measure up, be more like the kind of guy Bobby is, but we're still very different. Different enough that the idea of Bobby Hobbes wanting anything more than a casual fuck from me almost seems like a dream. 

I sigh to myself. _Let's face it -- right now, even the casual fuck idea seems like a dream. I'd settle for that, though. For good, old-fashioned, wanna-jump-your-bones kind of lust. For one more hot look like Bobby gave me down on the beach._

I watch him for a long time, hoping I'll get lucky. But Hobbes doesn't blush, or look at me again, or give anything else away. Instead, after a long while, he just smiles a little. Without even taking his eyes off the road, he asks, "What're you lookin' at, Fawkes?" 

__

Damn! He knows I've secretly been ogling him. How the hell did he notice? 

While I'm sitting there, too shocked to say anything, Bobby shakes his head wryly. "Go to sleep, Gland Boy."

I smile to myself, and close my eyes for real this time. _It's amazing. He always_ _knows what I'm up to. Always. _

I must be pretty far gone, 'cause I kinda like that.

Seconds later, I fall asleep.

********************************

I wait for awhile. Maybe a good five minutes, until I'm sure Fawkes is really asleep. _Not just faking it so he can scope me out again, the sneaky bastard._ I smile in spite of myself, and take another look at him. 

His head's back on the seat, his hands are in his lap, and his long legs are sprawled out in front of him. _He looks -- well, relaxed is too mild a word for it._ _He looks like he doesn't have a care in the world._ _For a guy who just tried to kill himself, that's pretty amazing._ I shake my head in reluctant admiration. _Fawkes always looks like that. Long, slinky. Loose. Like he doesn't have one uptight bone in his whole body. Like this big fucking cat or something. I envy that._

Wonder if he's that loose in bed….

I wince. Whip my head around and look back at the road. Tighten my hands on the wheel until they almost hurt. _God dammit! What the fuck's wrong with me? My own partner just tried to kill himself, and here I am, thinking about fucking him!_ _Again. _I feel totally embarrassed. _I oughtta be watching the road, instead of looking at him like that. I already know what he looks like, for Crissake! I've been his partner for months now_. _I know Fawkes inside and out. Head to toe. From his curly little sideburns to his size thirteen feet._

At least, I thought I did. So why didn't I see this coming? The thought's pure pain. _Maybe his looseness, that casual thing he's got going, fooled me. Or maybe I've been too busy secretly drooling over his outsides lately, to look past 'em, at his insides. I forget how different Fawkes and me are, sometimes. He's an overgrown kid in some ways, but that don't make him stupid. Look at all the books he's always reading. How he can quote all those writers and philosophers and stuff. Kid's smart. Got a lot goin' on, under all that hair. Maybe even more than I guessed. Whatever his problem is, he managed to hide it from me, that's for sure. Or was I just too wrapped up in my own problems to spot it?_

Don't know. But either Fawkes fooled me, or I fucked up. Either way, it isn't good. That wasn't just a little mistake, it was a fucking huge one. Bobby Hobbes doesn't like making mistakes. 

I keep the van in the fast lane, and tromp on the gas. I'm already over the limit, but I can't go slow, not when I'm all wound up inside like this. So much happened tonight, I feel like I can hardly take it in. _I feel like it's partly my fault that he ended up half a mile out in the Pacific. Wish this heap o' junk could go faster._ _I just wanna get Fawkes outta here, as far away from the ocean as possible…._

And then what? What am I gonna do about this? About him?

I bite my lip, thinking it over. 

__

I know what I oughtta do. I oughtta report it. The Official said, if Fawkes does anything that could endanger the gland, I'm supposed to report it. In detail, in triplicate. It's my duty. And Fawkes trying to drown the fucking gland about a mile out in the Pacific, well -- that was more than just endangerment. That was attempted gland murder.

I smile a little. But then the smile fades. _I don't wanna report it. Can't even say I blame Fawkes for trying to drown it. That thing in his head -- it's not just poisonous, it's a trap, too. It's got him stuck here, stuck like a bug on a pin, helpless and dependent on the Fat Man. And I know he hates that. It's probably part of the reason he was out there in the water tonight. _

But if I report this, if the Official finds out that Darien was depressed enough, or scared enough, or both, to try to kill himself…. We both know he's on thin ice with the Fat Man anyway. If Fawkes screws up too bad, if he gets to be too much of a pain in the ass, the Official could label him a security risk. Yank that gland outta his head, and put it in somebody else.

Of course, that'd kill Darien. But the Fat Man would do it anyway. I know he would, the rat bastard.

The thought makes me shudder. _So where does that leave me? Out on a limb, as usual._ _Ever since I got partnered up with Fawkes, I feel like I spend half my time out here._ _Trying to hang onto my principles around slippery-slidy Darien. Trying to protect him, but still do what the Boss says. Trying to do the right thing, when sometimes it's almost impossible to tell what that is. This isn't the first time I've had one of these arguments with myself; and if I know Fawkes, it won't be the last, either._

I can feel myself sweating. _Seems like this is all too much. Again. Like it's beyond me. There's so many angles, and I can't figure 'em as easy as I usually do. Dunno why, but I -- can't -- think! Not with Fawkes sitting so close to me…._

Without even meaning to, I find myself looking at him again. My eyes just drift over like they're taking a little moonlight stroll, and before I know it, they're all over him. His long legs, his spiky hair, the smooth skin I can see at the opening of his collar…. Just for a second, I imagine kissing him there. Licking him. Tracing his collar bone with my tongue. Tasting the ocean salt on his skin, tasting _him_ --

Just like that, I'm hot. Getting hard again. _Shit! Quit doin' that! _I tell myself, shifting uncomfortably in my seat_. Quit looking at him! I haveta figure the angles. I gotta! For his sake_. 

I shake my head, pissed off at myself. _No matter how I try, I keep having these horny thoughts about Fawkes. I know what I'm gonna haveta do, to get myself back on track._

Wham! I hit the steering wheel. Hard enough to hurt my hand, but not quite hard enough to break any bones. 

__

Ow! I shake my aching fingers, stifling a gasp so Fawkes won't wake up. _Shit, that hurt! I'll have bruises tomorrow. But it worked._ _I learned that a long time ago: pain's an incredible attention-getter. It'll get you focused, real quick. Works for me, anyway_. My eyes are off my pretty partner now, and back on the road again; and my mind's shifted back to the problem. 

__

Okay. _What I gotta do is simplify this. Break it down, into something I can handle._ _Okay. Seems to me_, _I got two options here. I can do what I'm supposed to, do my duty, and tell the Official what happened -- and risk losing my partner, risk getting him killed, if the Fat Man decides he's too unstable_.

__

Or I can not do that. I can keep my mouth shut. Keep it to myself, and keep Fawkes safe.

Ya look at it that way, it's a no-brainer. It's easy. I already figured out that Darien's more than just my partner, he's like family. So no way am I gonna rat on him. Besides, it won't be the first time I've kept my mouth shut about one of his crazy stunts. I figure, what the Official doesn't know about the wild child, won't hurt Darien.

Okay. That's settled, then. No report.

I feel relieved. I mull it over awhile longer, though. _Have to make sure I didn't miss any of the angles. Gotta be damn sure this is the right thing to do, and that there's no way keeping quiet could back-fire on the kid_. _I know he's probably still unstable, but I figure I'll keep a lid on that by watching over him myself. No way will he get away from me, or try to off himself again, while I'm keeping an eye on him. I'll watch him like a fucking hawk. So he'll be okay. Better off than he'd be if the Fat Man found out what he tried to do tonight, anyway. If the Official knew about that swim -- Jesus. It wouldn't be pretty. Even if he didn't decide to pull the gland out of Fawkes's head, he'd probably throw the kid in the rubber room in a strait jacket, and have some shrink grill him for days. He might even make Claire trank him. In the state Fawkesy's in, that'd send him off the deep end again for sure._

So: no report. No fucking way.

I sigh to myself. _Deep down, I think I already_ _knew I wasn't gonna make one. Knew it before I even got Fawkes out of the water_. _Maybe I should feel bad about that. Disloyal or something. But I don't. _

That kind of surprises me_. I should. So why don't I?_

It's not that I'm not loyal. It's more like s_omewhere along the way, my priorities shifted. My first loyalty isn't to the Fat Man anymore, or even to the Agency. It's to Darien._

I get the feeling, way down deep, that that means something_. Maybe something big. My shrink would probably wanna analyze the hell out of it. _But I just shrug_. I'm not gonna. Right now, I've got bigger headaches_. _If I'm gonna keep quiet about this, I've gotta figure out what to do with Darien. Said I'd take him home with me, but is that really the right thing to do? _

I hit the gas and pass a slow-moving car, thinking it over_. I'd take him to the Keeper, hand the responsibility over to her for once, if I thought she could help him. But this isn't something she can fix. Besides … I like Claire, but she acts like she owns the kid sometimes. Like she owns both of us. Like he's her pet science project, and I'm this frickin' robot or something, built to muscle Darien into her chair and strap him down whenever she wants. Bet if she knew about the little stunt he just pulled, she'd be yelling, "Get him in that chair, Bobby. NOW!" She'd have him tied down in a second. She'd be taking blood samples and skin scrapings and giving him shots 'til his eyeballs popped. But he doesn't need another needle in his arm, or more tests done on his head right now._ _Doesn't need to be treated like a fucking lab rat, tonight of all nights. He's had more than enough of that shit already._

Besides, the thought of turning him over to Claire right now makes me feel … jealous. Just plain jealous._ Things between Fawkes and me changed tonight. Shifted. We're getting closer, and I like it. I want it. I don't want Claire mixing in, and maybe getting between us right now. _

The thing is -- she could. I got no doubts about that. Claire's kinda hard to miss. She's got all that blonde hair, that pouty mouth, that pretty accent -- and I'm not the only one who's noticed. Sometimes, when he forgets to resent her for helping to keep him in line with counteragent, Darien flirts with her. I've seen him do it, and I hate it. I mean, I flirt with her, too; but it's not the same thing. With me, it's just a reflex. A habit. A game. It's fun, but it doesn't mean anything. With him, I'm not sure. And the thought that Darien might really want her -- 

That's pain. Pain mixed with jealousy. _I don't even wanna go there._

Guess I don't really wanna pawn him off on someone else, after all. What I want is to have him all to myself. Problems and all. For the hundredth time, I wonder what it is about this big ex-thief that totally gets to me. 

I glance over at him, sleeping sprawled out next to me, and something inside me softens. Just like that. All I have to do is look at him, and it warms me up. _It's weird. I never expected it. I mean, he's a thief! A criminal. _

But that's not all he is. 

Don't get me wrong, Fawkesy's got his faults. Plenty of 'em. He's lazy. Mouthy. Headstrong. Moody. He can be selfish sometimes, and he spends too much time feeling sorry for himself. Plus, he's a thief. He's robbed a few places, stolen some watches, whatever. He's got sticky fingers, all right. Thinks what's yours is his, too. But that don't make him Jeffrey frigging Dahmer. He's never stolen anything from me; and I don't think he ever would. Even Fawkes's got his limits. Sure, he tries _to act hardened. Tough. Like he's this big, bad ex-con. But I see through that little act. When it comes to people, he's really a softie. _

In fact, far as I can see, he wasn't very good at being a thief because of that. Oh, he's got the brains, all right -- no question. Bet Fawkesy was fantastic at figuring out how to crack a joint, how to get through security systems, or charm your way in. But he doesn't have the coldness, the ruthlessness that ya gotta have to get out, if things go wrong. He wasn't enough of a bastard to save his ass at the expense of everyone else. Christ, he never even carried a gun! And look at how he got caught, that last time. Trying to save some old man he didn't even know. Some old geezer he scared, when he was trying to rob an apartment! That's classic Fawkes.

He can be selfish about things, but from what I've seen, when it comes to people, he's the opposite. 

I'm not sure if he even realizes it, but when it comes down to it, Fawkes tends to puts other people first. I've seen him do it time and time again, while we've been working together. He risked his neck for that kid Jessica recently, and she ain't the only one. I'd be tempted to say that working for the Agency's having a positive effect on him -- but he tried to save that old man while he was still a thief, before he ever got here. So I think his new job is probably just bringing out something that was already there inside him. 

I think Darien's basically a good kid, who just took a wrong turn somewhere. Maybe it happened 'cause he lost his mom and dad when he was little. I dunno. All I know is, he can try all he wants to act selfish, tough and cynical -- but Fawkesy doesn't have the killer instinct. No way. I've been in this business long enough to know. In fact, he's the opposite. As long as he doesn't feel threatened, he's this total bleeding heart. I've watched him with people, and he always wants to fix their problems, always wants to help. Deep down, he's kind. Gentle. Got a good heart. Compared to me, he's a fucking innocent.

For a second, I wonder if that's it. If that's the attraction, what I love about him_ -- his innocence._

I catch myself. _Love? Did I just think the L word?_

That scares me. I shake myself. _That's crazy! Nuts. Love? I mean, I want him, but … I can't love Fawkes. I can't! I mean, we're opposites. I'm hard, he's soft. I'm cold, he's warm. Fawkes just pretends to be cynical -- I am. I'm hardened, in ways he'll never be. I spent most of my life in tough worlds: the military and Intelligence. I'm all nerves, all jagged edges and suspicion. When it comes down to it, I'm a trained killer. I don't enjoy it, but I do it when I have to. Without flinching, or looking away, or worrying about it after, either. Darien could never do that. He freaks out every time he even roughs someone up, when he goes Quicksilver crazy. _

I think that's part of what I like about him. His gentleness. I mean, it doesn't hurt that he's so easy on the eyes. But I've worked with good-looking guys before, and never felt anything like this for any of 'em. I think Fawkes would've gotten to me even if he was plain, though. 'Cause it ain't just the package I like. Ain't just the shiny wrapping. I like that somewhere inside him, under his snot-nosed punk act, there's this wide-eyed kid with an open heart. This kid who likes people, who loves to laugh and tease, and doesn't wanna hurt anybody. I like that kid, and I want him to let me in. I want it so bad, I can taste it.

That's part of the problem. That hunger scares me.

'Cause maybe it's pathetic. Weak. Maybe wanting someone so young and pretty is a sign that I'm cracking up. Going soft in my old age. I dunno. I've been tough all my life -- at least, I've tried to be. But it's been a struggle, and for most of it, I was all alone. I'm starting to feel like I've been alone too long. Like I've been shoved up against the world's hard, rough edges too many times, and I've got the scars to prove it. Outside and inside, too. It's done some damage. Maybe that's part of the reason why I lost Viv, and why I have to see shrinks, and take all these pills. To be strong, to survive, I had to protect myself. Had to turn my heart to stone, at least on the outside. I had to keep people at a distance. But I did it for so long, I almost forgot how to let anyone in. I'm starting to go cold on the inside, too. So cold, I'm turning into a fucking icicle. Maybe Darien could melt all that ice.

Maybe I even need him to. 

Now, there's a scary thought. But I already trust him more than I've trusted anyone except my ex-wife; and it's a short step from trust to total surrender. I know that. It scares me though, 'cause this world's a tough place for innocents like Darien. _He's smart and he's strong, but he's still learning. In the spy game, he's still a "babe in the woods"; and our business tends to chew babes up and spit 'em out. Sometimes, it even kills 'em._

I look over at Fawkes's messy, spiky hair, and I feel a stab of fear. Not for the first time. I think, _That's not gonna happen to him. I won't let it. _But that just leads me back to my original problem._ How do I take care of him? How do I fix what's ailing Mr. Innocent tonight? _

First, I've gotta figure Fawkes out. Try to decide why he went off the deep end tonight. He said he was scared. Scared of what? Scared of what he is now? Scared of his demon? Could be. It's tempting to think that's the answer, but I can't be sure. Fawkesy's got a good heart, but he's got his dark side, too. Maybe there's something else going on with him. Maybe he's mixed up in something bad that I don't know about, something that's got nothing to do with the Agency. It wouldn't be the first time he's strayed, and gotten in over his head for it. Maybe that's what he's afraid of.

But there's no way to know for sure unless I wake him up; and I don't wanna do that. 

So I think back some more. Back to when he came to my apartment, back before he decided to go swimming_. He kept saying he wanted us to spend more time together. He said that over and over. Once I realized he was making a pass at me, I wrote that off as just a line. But maybe I was wrong, and he meant it. Maybe that's why he's been calling me so much lately. I never thought about it before, but since he started working for the Agency, he's been cut off from all his old friends, all his sticky-fingered former pals. Could be what he needs is some attention. Maybe part of Fawkesy's problem is, he's really lonely._

I shrug. _It's an idea, anyway. Something to work on._ _Maybe when he came to my place earlier, what he really wanted was just someone to talk to. I mean, he did hit on me, but maybe that was 'cause he didn't know how to tell me that he just needed_ _someone to give a damn about Darien Fawkes for a change, and not that goddamn gland in his head. But I panicked and threw him out, instead._

The memory of that makes me wince. _Okay, so I was a jerk. I was stupid, I didn't get what he was trying to tell me. I'll make up for it now._ _I'll take Fawkes home. Dry him off. Talk to him. Try to find out what's scaring him so bad, and what he needs to make him feel better. Try to get him back on some kind of an even keel again. _

Now, that's ironic. Me, trying to play shrink for Fawkes. _Me, Lithium Bob, trying to cheer him up. Christ._

Still, what other choice do I have? Right now, I'm all he's got.

I look over at him, feel that softness inside again and think, _And maybe that's not so bad. Maybe that's just how I want it._

****************************

I fall asleep. But then I start to dream; and in my dream, I'm cold. So cold I'm shivering. It's dark, and I'm scared. I'm in prison again. I'm alone. Trapped in my tiny, dingy little cell. No hope, no light, no way out. I reach out for comfort, for someone to help me. And I find someone. A warm body, a broad shoulder. _Oh, thank God. I'm not alone after all._ I get next to that shoulder. Lean into it. Press myself up against it. _Whoever he is, he feels good. He's warm, solid and strong. _Best of all, he doesn't move. So I lay my tired, heavy head down on his shoulder. Wrap my cold body around his.

__

Better, I think. _Warm._ _Safe_. My fear fades away, and so do the walls of my cell. I go back to sleep.

*****************************

Darien makes this funny sound, deep in his throat. This muffled kind of moan, that I don't like. I look over at him. He's still asleep, but he doesn't look relaxed anymore. He's frowning, and his hands twitch. _Bad dreams_, I think. _Not surprising, considering what he just did_. Still, the idea of Fawkes having nightmares bothers me. _I have 'em a lot, but he shouldn't. He's got enough to deal with when he's awake. He doesn't need his troubles following him into his dreams_.

"Hey, Fawkes," I say softly. "You okay?"

He stirs a little. Tosses his head, and reaches out in his sleep. When he touches my arm, he turns toward me blindly, and mutters something I can't hear. Next thing I know, his head's on my shoulder. I stiffen in surprise. _Oh geez_.

"Fawkes!" I hiss.

But he just gets closer. He moves his head, burrowing it into my neck, so he's kind of draped over my right side. His weight pulls my right hand off the wheel, and when I let that arm drop, he wraps his arm around it and cuddles even closer. His free hand drops onto my right leg. Then he lets out this contented little sigh, and relaxes. 

__

Fuck! If I thought this was a joke, another one of his outrageous ways of teasing me, I'd smack him. But I know he's asleep, and that he's just getting comfortable. I'm not, though. I'm anything but. I don't usually let people get this close. And having Darien Fawkes draped all over me, feeling every loose, sleepy inch of him that's touching me -- it's like torture. I can feel his breath, warm on my neck. His hands, warm on my arm and thigh.

"Fawkes, come on!" I plead. 

Fawkes sighs again. Another soft, happy sigh. But he doesn't move. 

__

It's obvious, he likes it here. Aw, shit! I roll my eyes. _I could get rid of him, of course. Push him off, or even wake him up._ I think about it. _But after what he's been through, he's gotta be exhausted. He needs to sleep._

I think about what his dreams must be like, and the way he swam out to sea tonight. How close I came to losing him, to never seeing him again. I think about how rotten my life was, before he came into it. I remember how I just promised myself I'd give him whatever he needs, to get him through this; and how I want some warmth in my life. 

__

Darien's warm, all right. _Inside and out_.

I think about all that, and decide not to push him away. "Okay, partner," I say gently instead. "Okay." _If this is what you need_….

But that's just an excuse_. Maybe, just maybe, I need it too_. So I try to relax. Stop thinking of it like it's torture, and enjoy being so close to Darien, instead. _After all, it could be worse._ _He could've done this at the lab. With Claire, instead of me. _

That definitely makes me feel better. _Come to think of it, I kinda have the best of both worlds, here. Darien's all snuggled up to me, but he's asleep. And what he doesn't know about, he can't tease me about when he wakes up. _That makes me smile. 

__

At least he isn't hanging onto my left arm. At least I can still drive. So I do that. I let him sleep on my shoulder, and I just keep driving.

When we get back to my place, Darien's still curled up beside me, hanging onto my arm, with his head on my shoulder. _He looks really young and innocent, asleep_. But I don't feel that way, with his body all soft and warm and pressed up against me. I feel kind of weird as I pull up and park. I'm really, really tired, but I'm excited, too. Aroused. It's hard not to be. _I mean, we already kissed down on the beach, then he curled up next to me, and now we're back at my place, where we'll really be alone_. 

I feel a guilty little thrill, at the thought of that. _Company pier_, I tell myself severely. _Bobby Hobbes does **not** fish off the company pier!_

But even that doesn't help. All I get is this mental image of Darien, diving off of the company pier. Long, lean, sleek and naked, like he was on the beach. I sigh to myself. _Almost wish I hadn't seen him naked. Now it's all I can think about_. 

__

Anyway, that ain't gonna happen again tonight. Nothing's gonna happen, I tell myself for the tenth time, as I shut the engine off quietly. _He's worn out. Trashed. So am I. We both need to rest, so I'm just gonna put him to bed._

Problem is, the idea of laying Darien's big, sleepy body in my bed does things to me, too. Hot, exciting things. _Pervert,_ I tell myself, but there it is_. _Just thinking about him in my bed makes me harden. _It's not like I wanna take advantage of him. I don't._ _I'm gonna take care of him. But along with affection and protectiveness, I feel other things for him now, too. Sexual things, that complicate everything._

I heave a sigh, turn my head and look at Fawkes. I see tousled brown hair, the curve of his cheek, and the hint of a smile. _He looks happy. It'd be nice to think that snuggling up to me drove his nightmares away._ _Maybe it did._ _He's all warm and comfortable now, anyway. Hasn't made a sound since he pressed up against me, either_. _I kinda hate to wake him up._

In fact, it hits me that what I want to do, what I'd really like to do while he's all soft and sleepy like this, is kiss him again. 

But that'd be cowardly. Taking advantage, and I know it. _I'm not gonna pounce him while he's asleep. Besides, there's the whole company pier thing…._ _Aww, what the hell. Fuck the company! I saved his life tonight. So the company owes me one. Maybe I can't kiss him, but I deserve just one teeny, tiny little cast off of the Agency's pier._

So I let myself reach over and touch him. I ruffle his hair gently. It feels a bit stiff with salt, and it sticks up in tufts, making me smile. "Rise and shine, Invisible Boy," I say quietly. "We're home."

Fawkes lets go of me and sits up, blinking and rubbing his eyes. "I fell asleep." 

"No kiddin', Fawkesy." _Wonder if he even knows he snuggled up to me in his sleep? Probably better if he doesn't. _So I don't say anything.

Darien yawns hugely. Runs a hand through his hair, and messes it up even more than it already was. _With his hair sticking up like that, and those sleepy eyes, he looks like a kid. All rumpled and cute. I know better than to tell him that, though. Don't want him to get pissed at me again. _

But I must've smiled without knowing it, because Darien smiles back at me with this curious look. "What?"

I get that urge again. Another surge of temptation. _He looks so open, so warm and sleepy and unguarded that I wanna grab him and kiss the hell out of him, before he can stop me. But I know I can't do that. He needs help, not another kiss. _I swallow hard. _Get a grip, Bobby, or this is gonna be a helluva long night! _

I just shake my head in response. "Nothin'. Let's go." I turn to open my door, but Darien catches my arm.

"You're sure this is okay, Bobby? I mean --"

I know just what he means. No need to explain. One little touch, and I know. When I turn back to face him, I get this sudden, heated awareness of his hand on my arm. I feel how close we are, and how quiet it is out here. There's no one else around, and I think how no one would see us in the dark, if I kissed him again. Worse, I see that awareness in Darien's eyes, too. _Even though he just woke up, it's there. The same hunger I feel. He wants me too. Even now, when we're both so tired we're half dead, we still want it. Not just another kiss, but all of it. The whole enchilada. Sex._

That's why he's asking me if it's okay if he stays. 'Cause he's not sure what might happen.

I hesitate, because I'm not sure either_. It's not gonna be so easy, having Darien in my apartment now_. _I'm almost sorry I gave in and kissed him on the beach, too._ _It was easier when he didn't know that I want him. At least I was only fighting myself, then. Now I've gotta hold him off, too. At least, my conscience tells me I should. It's way too soon. If it's ever gonna happen at all, now's not the right time. Darien's still shook up, still depressed. He's vulnerable. Not thinking straight. So I gotta be the grown-up here. Gotta take care of him._

"Sure, it's okay," I lie. I already thought this part out, while he was sleeping. But I do my best to sound casual. "We both need some shut-eye, so you can take my bed. I'll crash on the couch." I just hope Fawkesy doesn't figure out that's a plan I devised, to keep us separated. Keep us apart. _That way, if we're in separate rooms, there won't be any fishing, off the company pier or otherwise. Not in my apartment anyway. Not tonight_.

Darien lets me go. Looks away, down at the floor, and nods. "Okay." At first, I think he's disappointed about the sleeping arrangements. I think maybe he's going to try to argue with me, and I tense up. But to my surprise, when he raises his head, he gives me that same crooked little smile he gave me down on the beach, instead. "Thanks, man," he says. 

__

Like he's grateful that I didn't just take him back to his apartment and leave him. Like he's glad just to be with me, even if nothing's gonna happen. That should be a relief. Instead, it only makes me wanna have sex with him even more. _Pervert_, I sigh to myself again.

But all I say out loud is, "Sure. No problem." _Lucky for me, I'm a pretty good liar_.

Darien climbs out of the van. He's not moving very fast, though, and it reminds me that I'm tired, too. I look at my watch -- it's 2 a.m. _No wonder. _I reach over to open my door, and sand grates against the vinyl under my fingers. I wiggle my toes. _Crap. I've got sand in my shoes, too. Probably all over me. I need a shower_. _But if I have one, Darien'll probably wanna take one, too. And I don't even wanna think about what it'll do to me, if he gets naked again in my shower. I've already had enough temptation for one night. More than enough_. 

__

But it's not over yet. I've still got this big problem child with me, who I gotta watch over. This sexy ex-thief who keeps making me think stuff I shouldn't be thinking.

__

Okay, no shower, I tell myself sourly. _I'll just go straight to bed. _

I'm not sure who I distrust more: Fawkes, or myself. I climb down out of the van and trail after him, feeling tense and excited, and hating myself for it. _Welcome to my world. Planet Hobbes, where everything is whacked, and you can't trust anyone. Including your partner. Or even yourself. Not when it comes to sex, anyway._

************************

I head up Bobby's stairs. I feel tired, but better. Lighter inside. A lot lighter. Still kind of stunned by what happened tonight, though. Still thinking about it. _My swim, and the way Bobby came after me, and even let me cry on his shoulder. All of it. _

Thinking about my swim isn't much fun, though. It takes me back to this dark place in my head, where everything seemed hopeless. Where I was lost. So I think about Bobby instead. _He did more than just save me. He took care of me. Even when I totally lost it, he didn't laugh_, I think, with a sense of wonder. _Most guys hate it when other guys cry. They'd've either laughed their heads off at me, called me a wuss, or told me to shut up. But Bobby was wonderful. He just held me, and said it'd be all right. _

I turn that over in my head for awhile. Savor it. _I mean -- the toughest guy I know, the toughest one I've ever known, cares so much about me that even seeing me cry didn't freak him out_. _He does love me, _I think, feeling warmed. _He must_…. _When he said it'd be all right, he made it sound like a promise. And having his arms around me felt so good, so right, it was amazing. But it didn't end there. He brought me back here to his place, instead of taking me back to my apartment. Hell, I think he even let me sleep on his shoulder in the van, on the way. _

I think this is Bobby's way of keeping that promise. 

He kissed me, too. My mind keeps coming back to that. I can't get over it. _Whatever his reasons were for it, that kiss was amazing._ Then doubt cuts through me. Through my happy, tired little haze. _But he said he's gonna sleep on the couch_. _So maybe he's already regretting it. _

This sarcastic voice in my head cuts in. _Well_, _I can think of a few reasons why he would_. _One in particular._ _With a capital P, and that rhymes with T, and that stands for "Prison!" _

I sigh to myself._ That's not a subject I like to think a lot about anymore -- my prison terms. But that's part of me, much as I'd like to deny it. It marked me, as surely as the snake tattoo on my wrist. I'm the only one at the Agency who did time, and it sets me apart from Bobby and everyone else there._

Still…. Buddha once said, "People cherish the distinction of purity and impurity. But in the nature of things, there is no such distinction."

I think he was trying to say that life's a messy business. It's got a lotta dark stuff, mixed in with the light. But if ya wanna really love life, or other people, you have to embrace all of that. Light and dark, neat and messy, pure and impure. And once you see the whole picture, you see it's all really just one thing: it's life. Ever see a view of the earth from space? From up there, you can't see any national borders on the continents. No England, Germany, France or even the good ole U.S. of A. You can't see any of the artificial boundaries we draw on maps, and fight wars over. Because those boundaries, those borders, are just something we make up. They're artificial distinctions, that don't really exist.

That's the gift of perspective. It makes some things really clear. What's important -- what's real -- and what isn't.

But most people don't see it that way. They don't have that kind of take on life. Buddha was a lot more enlightened than your average Joe, and I think he really hit the nail on the head there: most people like making artificial distinctions. Especially the moral kind. They like it a **lot**. Look at the way English is constructed: almost every positive adjective has a matching negative. Pure, impure. Mature, immature. Moral, immoral. You get the picture. People like to label. They like to judge. But most of all, if you step out of line or violate the rules, they like to punish. They'll put you in that negative category so fast, your head'll spin.

I should know. I started coloring outside of the lines and breaking the rules when I was pretty young. Now I'm not just a thief, but I also served time in prison. Everyone knows what happens in there, and it's got nothing to do with purity. So in the eyes of most people, I'm not just in that negative, "impure" category now -- I'm in slime up to my eyeballs.

What I wanna know is, what does that mean to Bobby Hobbes? What does that make me in his eyes? A slimeball? A slut? Did he put me in the "impure" category a long time ago? And was that kiss just a kind of bribe, to make me feel better? Or is he gonna think outside the box? Take the enlightened view, and accept me in spite of my past? See me as a man, and not a slut?

Is he ever gonna kiss me again?

Tired as I am, I'm full of questions. As we trudge up his stairs and Hobbes digs out his apartment key, I think, _Maybe tonight, I'll get some answers._

*********************************

I try to hide a yawn while I open my apartment door. _Don't want Fawkes to see how tired I am, in case he wants to stay up and talk for awhile. If he does, I'll do it. Because more than anything else, I want him to tell me what made him do it. Why he went half a mile out into the frickin' ocean tonight. _

But to my surprise, once we get inside, Darien throws himself down on my couch right away. He yawns like he's so tired, all he wants to do is sleep. _But I'm not sure if he's just using that as an excuse to avoid talking to me. Get the feeling he's not ready yet. Not ready to tell me._ It worries me. _How long is it gonna take, before he opens up?_

"Look, Hobbes," he says, "you're doing me a favor, letting me stay here. I can't let you give away your bed, too. You take the bed. I'll crash here, on the couch. Then I won't have to move." He yawns elaborately again, to show how tired he is.

__

Typical Fawkes. Thinking of me first, but trying to cover up the fact that he's doing it. _But I see through that little ploy._ _Can't let him think I'm that easy to manipulate_. "What, are you tryin' to make me look bad here, Fawkes? You're my guest, and guests don't sleep on the couch. Not in Chez Hobbes."

Fawkes widens his eyes in mock surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I was in your apartment. Didn't realize this was some sort of French hotel." 

I try not to smile. "Well, now you know."

But Fawkes isn't through arguing yet. He shrugs casually. "I'm just saying, you should take the bed. After all, like you pointed out earlier, you're older than me. And older people get tired easier --"

He's trying to look serious, but he can't quite keep this little smirk off his face. _That's classic Fawkes, too. He's trying to help me, but he can't resist teasing me about my age, at the same time._ _And it's just like him, to try to use my own words against me._ No way can I let him get away with that, so I fire one back at him. "Hey, hey! You're the one who fell asleep in the van on the way back here, my friend. Not me! So who's the decrepit one, huh?"

Fawkes pretends to consider that. "You know, you're right. Not only did I drag you out into the ocean in the middle of the night, but I even took a snooze while you drove us back here." He looks down and puts on this totally fake look of guilt. "That was really, you know, selfish and inconsiderate of me."

He's putting on such a performance, I can't resist cutting in. "You? Selfish and inconsiderate? Never!"

I can see Fawkes is trying not to smile, too. "No, I was. I really was! I was this total, selfish bastard," he confesses, trying hard to look guilty. Head down, he sneaks a sideways glance at me, to see if I'm buying it yet. "So you should probably punish me, and make me sleep on the couch."

I shake my head. "Oh, no." But inside, I'm smiling. Watching Fawkes pretend to look guilty like that is hysterical.

__

This kind of teasing, this little war of words that he loves so much -- it just shows what a kid he is. Give Fawkes a chance, any chance to play, and he can't resist. Thing is, though, he's not the only one who loves it. I'd never tell him, but I do, too. So I play along, like I always do. "Listen, if I wanted to punish you, I'd make you sleep on the floor. Wouldja' just do like I said, and take the bed, please? You're too tall to fit on the couch, anyways!"

"Oh yeah? Watch this." Fawkes lies back on my couch, stretching his long legs out. To my surprise, he does fit, after all. Just. He gives me this smug smile, like he knew it all along. "You've got a big couch here, buddy. I'm fine. See?"

__

Smart ass. _He probably knew he'd fit there all along, before he ever started this argument. He was just saving that bit, so he'd win. I hate it when he wins_. "Yeah, but --"

He pulls a pillow behind his head, lays back on it and closes his eyes. "No buts. This is fine, Hobbesy," he says with a little smile. "It's good."

I eyeball him for a minute. _Gotta admit, though, he does look comfortable_. _And my bed sounds awful good right now, too._ _So if he doesn't wanna talk it out yet, I'd just as soon crash. _"Okay," I tell him. 

__

I'll let him win this one, 'cause if he doesn't tell me what the hell made him want to kill himself, we're gonna have a much bigger fight on our hands, later. _If he doesn't open up soon, I'll have to force him to talk. Don't wanna, but I will if I have to._

__

That's one thing I'm good at: doing what has to be done. 

But I'm hoping it won't happen. That he won't make me pry it out of him. _Anyway, we should both get some sleep first, before we start World War III_. So I just say quietly, "Okay. If you wanna stay there, I'll get ya a blanket."

I grab one out of my bedroom closet, come back in and look down at him. For a second, I have this silly urge to spread the blanket over him myself. Kind of tuck him in. But I'm not sure, at this point, if that's real concern or lust. _Do I just wanna tuck him in here, or am I looking for an excuse to touch him again?_ _Am I trying to be Mr. Mom, or Mr. Molester? _

I'm not sure. But I know it's safer -- smarter -- not to touch him again. Besides, Fawkes usually hates it if I hover. So I restrain myself, and toss him the blanket instead.

But then I hear myself say, "You should get outta those clothes, Fawkes. They're all salty and damp." _Okay, so much for not hovering. I'm starting to sound like his mother!_ _No -- I sound stupid. 'Cause what's he gonna change into? It's not like I've got an extra set of pajamas he can borrow._ _He's way too tall. None of my stuff would fit him. _

I halfway expect Darien to point that out. But to my surprise, he agrees with me. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'll just get rid o' this…." Before I can stop him, he sits up and pulls his damp T-shirt over his head. In seconds, he's half naked again. I swallow hard. _Aw, crap! Seeing that gorgeous chest twice in one night is almost too much. I'm really tired, and my resistance is going._ I remember how good it felt, having him in my arms on the beach, and it's all I can do not to reach out and touch him.

Then a worse thought hits me. _Oh geez. What if he doesn't stop there? What if he decides to take it all off? I couldn't stand that. He loses his jeans, and I'll lose control._ So I grab his shirt, and turn away quickly. "I'll hang this up for ya," I mutter, not looking at him. "Sure you're gonna be okay here, Fawkes?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go on, Hobbes. Go to sleep."

Any other time, I'd've done that without a second thought. Taken his word for it that he's okay, and hit the sheets. But there's something in his voice now, a hint of something like disappointment that makes me pause_. I almost lost him once tonight -- I don't wanna make another mistake_. So I stop at my bedroom door, and throw one last little glance at him over my shoulder. He's lying down, his head on a pillow, the blanket over his legs, his eyes half closed. _He looks tousled and tired. Like he's gonna go to sleep the second I leave the room. But I don't trust him. Appearances can be deceiving, and so can Fawkes. _

For my own peace of mind, I decide to make him promise to stay put this time. "Okay. You can sleep in as late as ya want tomorrow. Then I'll make us breakfast. But no taking off again, all right?" _We'll talk, Fawkes. Talk it all out in the morning. But you better be here._

He sits up a little, turns to look at me, and like he read my mind, he says, "Okay. I'll be here. Thanks, Bobby."

I search his eyes. He looks tired, but he's smiling a little, and I can tell he means it. _He's not lying to me. He's not gonna leave again. Okay._

"Sure." I turn away again, more than a little tired myself. But relieved. Very relieved.

But Fawkes calls after me. "Hey, Hobbesy. You know how to make cinnamon toast?" 

I smile at the note of hope in his voice. _If that don't beat all. After everything that happened tonight, all the six-foot-three problem child can think about is his stomach! And he wants cinnamon toast for breakfast! Like a little kid. Geez. Surprised he didn't ask for Captain Crunch. _But he promised not to leave, so I cut him some slack. Turn around again and nod. "Yeah. It's cinnamon on bread, right?" I shrug. "How hard can it be?"

I see this little glint in Darien's eyes, and think, _Uh oh! That was the wrong thing to say. I've been set up!_ But it's too late. I walked right into it.

"Well, ya see now, there's where you're wrong," Fawkes answers softly. "Ya gotta use a bit of sugar, too." He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "Mmm, yeah. Sugar," he purrs. "Ya gotta use lots of that." 

I stiffen. _Seems like Darien's not too tired to talk, after all. Long as it's about sex, anyway. Jesus fucking Christ! It's not enough that he's lying there all sexy and half naked, he's gotta show some tongue, too! _

Darien smiles, and his tongue does another lazy, sensual swipe, back and forth over his lower lip. It looks casual, like he's just wetting dry lips, but I know better. He's playing me, and it's working. It sends a thrill right straight to my dick.Suddenly, all I can think about is how full his lower lip is_. _I wanna lick it, kiss it, sink my teeth into it…. _Like he knew I would, the bastard!_

Our eyes lock. Darien's are sparkling with mischief, and something else I don't wanna think about. _I know I should turn around and leave. Just get myself the hell out of here. Away from his big brown eyes, his tempting tongue, and his goddamn flirting_. But somehow, I can't turn away. I find myself answering him instead. Flirting right back. "Oh, so that's the secret ingredient, huh? Sugar?"

"Oh yeah," Darien says huskily. "You know -- the white stuff."

__

Oh, fuck!

Darien gives me this slow grin, and all of a sudden, he doesn't look just mischievous anymore. He looks wicked. Wanton. _And he's not talking about sugar anymore either, the suggestive bastard. Dirty little Darien…_ My head spins. 

Darien's smile deepens into something like an erotic promise. That smile says he's naked under that blanket, naked and ready for me, and that he's just waiting for me to come and tear it off him, so we can get the party started. I find myself hoping that it'll accidentally slip down past his waist, so I can find out if it's true at a safe distance. _Then again, when he looks at me like that, no amount of distance is safe. When he does that, all I wanna do is close the distance. Get next to him_. 

I feel hypnotized. Like I'm drugged or something. All I can see is his tongue, his lips, his bare chest. The erotic glitter in his eyes. The open invitation in his suggestive smile. I actually feel myself take a step towards him. I have to shake myself and blink my eyes, to break the spell. 

Whoo. Just in time. I feel a flash of resentment, at the way he's playing with me. I mutter, "Knock it off, you little snake charmer!" 

"What?"

"Nothing! Never mind." I do my best to get pissed off at him, to try to snap myself out of it_. _It's not that hard. After all, he's been teasing me mercilessly. _Fawkes, you bastard! Lying there with your perfect chest and your come-fuck-me eyes. Smiling at me. Flirting. Licking your lips, and talking about sugar. I know just the kind of sugar I'd like to give you, too. _

For a second, I almost do it. I'm so damn tired I can hardly see straight, but the surge of annoyance I feel at his shameless teasing almost overcomes that. I almost walk over to that couch and throw myself on him. _I want to. Wanna find out how it feels, doing it with a guy. No -- doing it with Darien. Wanna find out if the rest of it would feel as good as his kiss did. Besides … it'd serve him right, for making those sexy yummy sounds. For all that talk about sugar and white stuff. And for the tongue thing, too._

But just in the nick of time, I remember that I'm not exactly an expert at throwing myself on guys. And I'm way too tired to risk getting laughed at by Invisible Boy. _If he did that, I might have to kill him. And that'd be a shame, since I just finished saving his ass. _

So in the end, all I say is, "Night, Fawkes." I grab his damp shirt, and turn and head for my bedroom, fast. Before he can say anything else. Before he can try anything else. Before he gets another chance to use that tongue….

"Night, Hobbesy!"

This time, Fawkes doesn't sound disappointed. _He sounds almost smug. Like he's smirking_. _Like he knows how much I want him, and that it's only a matter of time before I give in. _That burns me. "I'll get ya for that, Fawkes!" I mutter to myself."You better go to sleep fast, my friend."

I head for bed, thinking I'd better not hear one more peep outta him, or I'll go back out there and put him to sleep the hard way, with my fist.

Luckily for him, it doesn't come to that. Darien shuts up, and I go back in my room and change. And by the time I go to hang his damp shirt up in my shower, I've cooled off a bit. _Guess it's not really fair for me to be so pissed off at him, when Fawkes isn't the only one who got a bit outta line tonight._ _I watched him strip on the beach, after all_. _I didn't mean to. Didn't know he was gonna do that…. But I could've looked away, and I didn't. I watched him for a long time._

I get this uneasy feeling. _There's a lot of things I didn't do tonight, that maybe I should've. I didn't pick up on how upset Darien was, when he came over before. Didn't go after him soon enough, when he waded out into the ocean. Didn't tell the Fat Man that he tried to kill himself tonight, and I didn't take Darien back to his place after, either. I brought him home, instead._

It's a long list of mistakes. But I'm starting to think that not taking Darien back to his apartment was probably the biggest one on it. I can't find it in me to regret it, though, because I promised myself I'd give him whatever he needs. _And I think he needs to be with someone now. _

But what about me? What about what I need? It jolts me a bit, when I realize how little I even think about that anymore. _I've gotten so used to putting Fawkes first -- thinking about his needs before mine_… _I wonder if it's gone too far. I wonder if this thing, this thing between me and him that I can't put a name to, is already throwing me off. Affecting my judgment. Am I losing my edge? I can't afford that. We can't afford that. I'm supposed to be a professional. Supposed to stay detached, objective, so I can protect him. Fawkesy's smart, but he's still just a kid. A beginner. He's not experienced enough yet to protect himself anywhere near as well as I can._

But if this goes where I think it's going -- if I get all starry-eyed about him…. If I let him in, start needing him…. Where's it gonna lead? What's it gonna do to both of us?

I close my eyes. _I don't know. Right now, I don't even wanna know. I gotta take this one step at a time. If I start worrying about myself, on top of what Fawkes did tonight, I'll get so wound up, I won't even be able to close my eyes. And I'm so tired, all I wanna do is sleep_. _For about a hundred years._

So I hang up Darien's shirt, turn off all the questions, and head for bed. 

************************************

After I crash on his couch, Hobbes goes to get me a blanket. When he comes back with it, he stands over me with this oddly gentle look on his face. _Like he's considering laying it over me himself. Wrapping it all around me. Wonder what he's feeling?_ _Is it that kid brother thing again? Does he wanna tuck me in or something? Or is it --_

I hold my breath, but nothing happens. Either I just imagined that look, or it was just protectiveness, because Hobbes doesn't even touch me. He just tosses me the blanket, and tells me gruffly that I should get out of my wet clothes. 

__

Oh, well. Still, I don't give up. _'Cause that whole getting out of my clothes thing, hmm. Now, there's an idea that has possibilities._

Hobbes has already seen me naked, but I can't resist teasing him again. Especially since it seems to turn him on when nothing else will. So I sit up, acting casual, and whip off my shirt in record time. Bare my chest, such as it is. _I've always wished I looked more like Hobbes. Solid and muscular, rather than skinny. I work out, but I never could bulk up much. But hey, some guys like skinny. I just haveta hope he does. _

I smile, and wait for his reaction.

I know I shouldn't do this, 'cause Hobbes is tired. Worn out. His defenses are down, and here I am, flirting. Stripping for him. _Teasing him again, after I promised myself I wouldn't do that any more tonight. But the thing is -- that kiss. Mmm. I'm only human, and I can't get that kiss outta my head. I want more, but he's resisting, and maybe the only way I'm gonna get him to do it again is if I push._

Much to my disappointment, though, Hobbes doesn't respond to my little strip tease_. _

In fact, he turns away fast, like I'm grotesque. Like I have hideous, weeping sores all over my body or something. He asks me if I'm comfortable on his couch and makes me promise I won't run away again, but then he heads for his bedroom. Alone. Without asking me to come, too. 

Damn it! _So much for stripping. Imagine my disappointment._ _Here I thought one more sight of my gorgeous, naked body would render Bobby helpless with lust! Make him putty in my hot little hands. Et cetera, et cetera. Instead, he's heading for the hills. I feel like the fucking Elephant Man! "Am I repulsive? Do I disgust you?"_

I flop back down on the couch with a sigh.

__

Oh, well. It's partly my fault. I did insist on sleeping on the couch, after all. What an idiot! I should've tried to worm my way into his bed instead. He's worried about me, and I could've played on that. Could've said that I'm afraid to sleep alone, after what I just did tonight. I should've thought of some excuse to get in there with him -- but I didn't. 

I shrug_. I must be slipping. But damn, I hate to lose._

So before Hobbes disappears down the hall, I make one last stab at seducing him. I call out to him. Force him to stop. When he turns around, I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head. I ask him if he'll make me cinnamon toast for breakfast. _Not that I'm dying for it or anything. It's just something to say, to keep him from leaving. Something to get him to turn and look at me again. _I run my tongue over my lip and tease him about putting sugar on the toast, while I give him a sexy smile. _I know he'll get what I mean, 'cause Bobby's a born flirt. Hell, he's better at it than I am._

He gets it, all right. For a second, Bobby stands stock still. His light brown eyes widen with this look of surprised hunger. It's the same look I saw on the beach, and it makes my heart beat faster. Tired as I am, other parts of me stir, too. 

__

Then, wonder of wonders -- he starts flirting back. Bobby asks me about sugar, and his voice is a bit husky around the edges. _And he's staring at me, like he can't look away. Okay! Yes! It's working!_ I feel this little thrill. _Another second, and I'll get up off the couch. Go to him and --_

And nothing. Because Hobbes blinks it away. Literally. One blink, and that little flame in his eyes disappears like it was never there. Before I can get up and do anything about it, he turns on his heel and disappears into his bedroom. "Night, Fawkes."

I just sit there, speechless with surprise and disappointment. _Dammit!_ _How does he do that? Turn it on and off like a light, like that? Must be all that discipline he learned in the military or something. _

I settle back down on the couch with a grimace. "G'night, Hobbesy!" I try to sound cheerful, but I don't feel that way. Unlike Hobbes, I can't turn my feelings off that fast. 

I stare down the hall, frustrated_. That's the second time he's turned me down -- or is it the third? Anyway, the point is, why's he being so goddamn stubborn? Was I right, does he think he's protecting me? Or does he think I'm not good enough for him? There's no way to tell. _

So I settle back down on the couch, and flick off the light. I'm tired, but I feel tense. Stiff. In more ways than one. I look down and see a boner poking up under my zipper. I roll my eyes, knowing what caused it. _All that blabbering about sugar. I was just trying to turn Bobby on, but it got me all hot and bothered, too_. _Just thinking about him with sugar on his lips…. Oh, God._

I shouldn't think about that. It makes me squirm on the couch, makes my already stiff dick start to throb. _Forget it_! I tell it sourly. _You're not getting any_! I thump my pillow, totally frustrated by the way my little seduction plan just blew up in my face. _It's too late for sugar now. Too late for any hope of sugar of any kind, because Bobby's gone back into his room_. 

__

He left me all alone out here. Great! Now it's just me and my horny thoughts and my disappointed dick. 

It crosses my mind that I could maybe do something about that. Make at least one of my problems go away, so I can settle down and sleep. But I decide against taking care of that one right now. _There's no way, I mean no way I'm gonna do anything about that, with Bobby and his bat ears lying just a few feet away in his bedroom!_ _It's bad enough that he saw me crying. That's all I need, for Bobby to hear me moaning and breathing hard, and come out and catch me jerking off on his couch, too, like some horny little teenager_. _Huh unh._

But I wish I could._ I want him so bad, I wish to hell I could do something about it. _I twist around again, trying in vain to get comfortable. But my groin's still aching. I close my eyes and mutter under my breath, "I can't get no-oh, sa-tis-fac-shun…"

For a second, I laugh. But the laugh turns into a groan. _It ain't funny. _

Damn Hobbes. Damn sugar. Damn sex!

It isn't the first time I've cursed sex, lately. It probably won't be the last, either. I've been frustrated so often in the past year, it's getting monotonous. Like a really, really bad habit. So I try to force my mind away from it. But when I do, dark memories of what I did earlier tonight rush back in to fill it up instead. I remember how cold the water was. How it seemed like my only way out was death….

__

I thought Kevin was calling me to join him, I think, and I shiver.

I turn over on Bobby's couch again, troubled. Restless. Now I really wish I'd found some way to get myself into his bed. _I don't wanna sleep, 'cause I had some kind of bad dream in the van before, and I'm afraid it'll happen again; and this time, I won't have Bobby's warm shoulder to lean on, either. Lying out here alone in the dark like this sucks. It's kinda creepy_. 

Now that Bobby's turned me down again, all the bad feelings that drove me out into the ocean start to come back.I feel worthless. Dangerous. Lonely.I know Bobby's in the next room, but emotionally, it feels like he's miles away. It washes over me again, the need to tell him why I did it. That I did it for him….

But then I remember the fear on his face, in his eyes, when I even hinted at that. It scares me. Because I'm back now, trapped in this life with my demon and all my fears, because of Bobby. _I did it for him._ _But if he can't even stand to hear about it, then how is he ever gonna be able to help me with it?_

And if he doesn't help me, what the hell am I gonna do?

My heart starts to pound. I have to close my eyes tight for a minute, and take deep breaths, to make the panic fade. _I feel like I'm the only person in the whole frigging world. _I stare up at the ceiling. _I feel invisible. Again._

Finally, I sigh to myself. Because I know -- I _know_ -- there's only one way to make these feelings go away. _And Bobby isn't gonna like it…._

**************************

Bobby Hobbes needs some sleep. But I'm not sleeping. I toss and turn. Pound my pillow. Count sheep. Run through all the swear words I know, one by one. In English, French, Russian -- even the Arab ones I learned in the Marines. 

__

Shit. Mérde. Supriste!

No dice. I do everything I can think of, to try to get to sleep. But none of it works. I can't sleep. Not that I ever do sleep well, but right now, it's worse than usual. I can't even close my eyes. 

Finally, I give in and take a few tranquilizers. _Shit!_ _I hate doing that. Know I'll pay for it tomorrow. Always have a helluva time waking up, after they kick in. But tonight, I got no choice. 'Cause he's there. Fawkes is there. In the next room. Lying there on my couch, all loose and slinky and half naked. Hell, for all I know, maybe he's totally naked by now. I wouldn't be surprised. _I groan, trying not to imagine that_. Can't think about that, or I won't ever sleep_. 

But of course, I think about it anyway. My head fills with images of Darien on the beach. Shedding his clothes in the moonlight. Walking out of the waves, all wet and sleek and sexy. 

With sugar on his full lips, instead of salt.

__

Shit! 

I almost groan out loud. _If I didn't know Darien was in the next room, I would; 'cause I've got a hard-on that won't quit. Thanks to him_. I pound my pillow again, almost like it's Fawkes's sexy, tempting head. _It's his fault! It's all his fault! He's making me crazy!_ _How the hell can I sleep, knowing he's out there? He's probably asleep already, of course. Probably went to sleep within seconds, damn him. But how can he sleep, when we're -- okay, when I'm -- wide awake and horny?_

Okay, I admit it! I can't think about anything else, when he's in the next room. Nothing but him. Nothing but Sex, with a capital s. Sex with Darien. Isn't that a kicker, when I don't even know what to do to him? Well, I mean, I got some ideas. I've heard some things, seen some stuff in movies. But knowing that part A goes into slot B don't cut it, where sex is concerned. Experience is what counts. Without it, you end up fumbling around like a virgin who doesn't know a thing. 

But I wanna know. Boy, do I wanna know! What he likes, what it would take to make 

him --

A familiar wave of insecurity sweeps over me. _What makes you think you *could* make him --?_ _Stop it, _I tell myself. _Don't do this! You're just setting yourself up for a big disappointment, and you know it. Don't assume that kiss meant anything. _

Finally, self doubt does what nothing else could, and my arousal subsides a bit. _Darien's just lost right now. Lonely. He'll find a woman soon enough. Or maybe another guy. Whatever. And he'll forget all about this -- this -- this thing we've got between us. Whatever it is. Geez, I don't even know what it is! What to call it. If I should even let it happen. Or if I can stop it, at this point._

That's what I know, all right. Fuck-all. _About everything!_

It makes me furious. I'm so mad I feel like I'm steaming, like I'm throwing off heat. Like I'm sweating, 'cause my desire for Darien's so hopeless. _I'm probably just so tired, I'm starting to feel funky. _But I throw off my blankets anyway, lie back down, and stare up at the ceiling. I find myself listening for the sound of Fawkes's breathing.I can't hear it, and it worries me._ Don't get crazy, _I tell myself_. He's okay. He's just too far away. That's all._

I realize, I'm being selfish here. _Fawkes did something really scary tonight. If I'd done that, I'd want someone to be there with me now. But he's all alone out there. He can't even talk to me, 'cause I'm too far away_. 

__

That's my fault. I did that deliberately, put that distance between us to protect myself. Well, maybe both of us. But I never thought about how it'd make him feel. Was that another mistake? _Maybe. Guess if it was, it'd be easy enough to fix. But I'm afraid of what'll happen if I try. _So I lie there for awhile longer in the dark. Listening for Darien's breathing, and not hearing it. Getting more and more worried about him. 

__

Maybe he isn't asleep yet, after all. Maybe he's just like me. Maybe he can't sleep. 

__

But he needs to, _after taking that long swim, and then towing me most of the way back. Not to mention the way he broke down and cried, after_. _He's gotta be mentally and physically exhausted. I know he is, that's why he fell asleep in the van. He needs to get some more shut-eye. But somehow, I don't think he's sleeping. Why can't I hear him breathing?_

I feel myself winding up tighter and tighter inside. I can feel my whole body getting tense, and I know I'll never get to sleep if this keeps up. Trying to relax, I reach over and turn on this little lamp beside my bed. It's just bright enough to dispel the darkness a little, to give things near me shape and form. _It helps on nights like this, when I'm too keyed up to sleep. It lets me see that I'm safe. That there are no intruders in my place. No one hiding in the shadows._ Usually, that calms me down enough so I can get some rest. But not tonight. Tonight, for once, I'm more worried about the thief who's already in my apartment, than about any potential burglars. 

Trying to distract myself from thoughts of Darien, I look around at my stuff, my furniture. But that's not much help. All I can think is, how I bought most of it with Viv. _And she's not here now. Hell, she won't even talk to me. _That's a familiar pain, an old one, but it never goes away. _It kept me from having any kind of serious relationship with anyone else. That faint hope I've been carrying around that maybe someday, she'd take me back_.

__

But I know she won't. _That's just another lie I keep telling myself, to get me through nights that get lonelier and lonelier_. _Viv's gone. Gone, and she's never coming back._

That wound's so dark, so deep, that years haven't dulled the pain much. 

__

Wonder how much this thing with Fawkes has to do with her? Am I just trying to use him to take that old ache away, to make up for losing her? 

I turn that question over in my head for a minute. _Naw. It ain't that. What I feel for Darien's real. It's deep. It's way more than rebound desperation. He means a lot to me. More than anyone has since Viv left._

But that just makes me feel more alone than ever, because Fawkes isn't in here with me. 

Then I have an even worse thought. _What if I can't hear him 'cause he's not there? What if I really am alone? What if he left again? Got pissed because I left him alone and took off, for God knows where?_

No. He wouldn't. He promised me….

But so did Vivian. She promised me she'd stay forever, and look how that turned out.

My heart speeds up even more. My anxiety's soaring, getting out of control. _I'm not gonna be able to lie here much longer, without checking on Fawkes._ Then I hear the sound of someone moving in the next room. I've been listening so hard, for so long, that the soft padding of footsteps out there seems loud. I sit up in bed, my heart racing. For a second, I wonder if someone was watching my place, when we got here. What if someone saw us come in together, and came here to kill Fawkes? To kill the Invisible Man --

I almost reach for my gun. Then I see him. My bedside lamp gives off just enough light that I can make out this long, lean figure in my doorway, and my heart turns over. _It's Darien._ This little voice deep inside me says, _Thank you, God, he's still wearing his pants_. But another, evil little voice says, _Yeah, but you could get lucky. That could change_. I scream at both of them to shut up, and try to slow my racing heart down. _Calm, be calm_, I chant to myself. 

Fawkes leans casually against my doorframe. "Hey," he says quietly. "I saw your light."

__

Least he isn't talking about sugar anymore. Thank God. The fact that he's not flirting anymore's a relief. Still, seeing him half naked in my bedroom doorway takes my breath away. It takes me a second to get myself together, to think of something safe to say back to him. "Whatsa matter, Fawkes? You can't sleep?" _Dumb question, but what am I supposed to say? "Come on in, and we can screw like rabbits?" 'Cause one look at him, and it's all I wanna do. _

"Naw." He shrugs, straightens up and comes toward me. "You?"

Once he gets closer, I notice that Darien looks different_. Hesitant. Not as cocky as usual. A little lost, maybe. Dunno if it's because he's still freaked after that swim, or if it's because he thinks he's trespassing, and that I don't want him in here. He's partly right about that. Half of me doesn't. But the other half's turning fucking cartwheels, 'cause he's standing by my bed, shirtless and looking vulnerable. _

I try to forget about that. About Fawkes's bare chest, that is. Try to forget how handsome he is, and focus on the vulnerable part instead, on the fact that he's my friend. _My friend who almost died tonight. My friend who needs help. _

I was gonna kick him outta here. Tell him some lie that I was sleeping, sleeping like a baby, thank you very much, until he walked in. _But I can't_. _He's not flirting now, he's hurting. He's looking down at me with those big dark eyes, and they look sad right now, so sad. Like they did down on the beach_. That sadness gets to me. Somehow, I can't lie to him when he looks like that. It'd be like kicking a puppy. So I shake my head. "Naw. Me neither."

I see it in Darien's eyes. He can't say it, but I know why he's here, why he wasn't sleeping either_. 'Cause he was too far away. Too alone, out there on my couch_.

"Okay," I sigh, giving in. _It looks like there's only one way we're gonna be able to relax tonight; and that's if he's with me_. Hardly able to believe I'm doing it, I feel myself moving over to the right side of the bed, to make room for him. "Come on. Climb in."

"Really?" Fawkes scratches the back of his neck like he's not sure about it, but his eyes tell me the truth. They light up like a couple of candles, at the thought of climbing into my bed.

__

Oh God, I think. But I pretend not to notice. "Sure. What the hell." I shrug, trying to look more casual than I feel. 

"Okay." Fawkes quits pretending that he's reluctant, and in about a half a second, he jumps into my bed. Slides in beside me with one of his typically graceful, slinky moves. _Christ! Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. _Then it gets worse. He turns to me and smiles. This warm smile that gets to me. "Thanks, Bob--"

__

Uh oh. Next thing you know, he'll be talking about sugar again, and I'll lose it!

I cut him off. "Shh! Lie down! No talking," I order tersely. _No touching either_, I think, but I don't say it. I figure if I stay way over on my side of the bed, that won't happen anyway, so there's no need to say it. Fawkes lies down without another word. He looks disappointed, but I don't care. "This ain't no slumber party, Penelope!" I growl. "Just keep quiet, so I can get to sleep."

"Okay!"

"Shhh!"

Fawkes rolls his eyes, but he shuts up.

__

Good. I lie back and close my eyes. Still, I'm painfully aware of his bare chest and long, lean body, just about a foot away from me. I can _feel_ him there, even though I can't see him anymore. It's the same kinda torture I just felt in the van, when he fell asleep on my shoulder. So I don't bother pulling up the covers again. I leave the sheets and blankets folded back at the bottom of the bed, because with Fawkes lying right next to me, the one thing I'm not gonna be is cold. _Too hot, is more like it._

After a minute or so, I realize it's not nearly as dark as it should be, even with my eyes closed. _The lamp. I forgot to turn off the lamp_. I wait a bit, hoping maybe Fawkes will turn it off, but he doesn't move. I open my eyes a little to check him out. He's settled down on his pillow, eyes closed, face peaceful. But it's like he's got radar or something, 'cause as soon as I look at him, he opens his eyes and smiles at me again. 

__

Dammit! That crooked little smile just gets to me. Everything in me wants to respond. Every cell in my body says, _Yeah, go for it! Grab him! Get some sugar!_ But my conscience says, _No. Remember, he almost died tonight_. So I set my jaw, reach over and shut off the lamp. _That way, at least I can't see him_. "Go to sleep," I tell him sternly.

"Okay --"

"_Shhhh!"_

Finally, Darien shuts up. For about a minute. Then, almost like he's talking to himself, he says quietly, "It was cold out there, Hobbes."

I swallow hard again. _At least he didn't mention any erotic white substances this time. At least that's something. But I'm guessing he's not talking about the temperature in my living room, either. _Once again, I have to force myself not to reach out for him. But I know that wouldn't be a good idea, so I just say, "If you're cold, pull up the blankets."

"No. I mean, out in the ocean." Now his voice is so low it's almost a whisper. 

"Yeah. I know, ki--Fawkesy." For a minute, I hold my breath. It's the first time he's brought up his swim since he did it, and I feel a flash of hope. _Maybe, just maybe, he's finally gonna tell me what he was doing out there. What made him try to off himself._ I lie there waiting for it. Hoping for it.

But it seems he isn't thinking about himself. Because when Darien finally talks again, all he says is, "Thanks for coming for me, Bobby."

That gets to me even more than his little smile did_. I'll always come for you. No matter what_. _I'd come for you in Hell, if I had to._ "I'm your partner," I say, trying hard to keep my voice even this time. "That's what partners do."

That's true, but it's only a half truth. Loyalty and protectiveness aren't the only reasons why I'd do anything, go anywhere to save him. They're only part of what I feel. But he doesn't need to know that. I still haven't decided if it'd be good for him to figure out the rest of it.

Then again, maybe he already has. Because I hear this funny kind of rustling sound, and for a second, I wonder what the hell he's doing. Then Fawkes' hand brushes my arm. I'm so surprised, and so on edge, that I jump. But Fawkes doesn't let go. He curls his long fingers lightly around my bicep. 

"I know," he says softly. "And I just wanna say … I wanna tell you -- not to worry anymore." His fingers move, sliding down my arm until his hand finds mine. He finds it, folds his larger hand around it, and holds it. "I said I wasn't gonna leave, and I won't. I'm staying here with you tonight, Bobby. I swear."

__

That's the second time he's said that. He's really trying hard to reassure me that he's okay now. Not sure I believe it. I'd feel better about it if he'd tell me why he did it, that's for damn sure. But at least I know he's gonna stay put tonight. That's something. 

But what really gets to me is his touch. _It wasn't enough that he said the words, he had to hold onto me while he did it._ _I'm only just starting to see how important touch is to him._ _I never realized that before. Maybe because he's never let his guard down enough around me before, to say or do stuff like this_. Suddenly, it doesn't matter so much why he took that swim. _Guess he can tell me that when he's ready. Right now, the way he's holding onto my hand is enough. _

His gesture puts a lump in my throat. I can't say a word. I know I should move, pull my hand away. Let him go. But I can't do that, either, because his touch means a lot to me, too. _I've been alone too long myself. I know how it is, how down you can get. How it makes your nights seem so dark. How they feel like they'll never end. If it weren't for my pills, I'd've probably done something as stupid as his swim myself, long before this_. So instead of letting go, I squeeze his hand a little. Just so he knows that I got the message. That I understand. 

Finally, when a few minutes have gone by and I know I won't embarrass myself by sounding choked up anymore, I tease him a little. "You better stay. 'Cause if you tried to leave, I'd just have to go after you again. And it's a pain in the ass, hunting you down."

For a second, Darien doesn't say anything. Then: "You would, wouldn't you? You'd hunt me down again."

"Oh yeah! Like a dog," I grin. "Just like an invisible dog, my friend."

I feel the bed shaking beside me, then Darien bursts out laughing. 

I start laughing too. _It's been a long time since I've heard him laugh out loud. Too long_…. After all we've been through tonight, it feels good, lying here in the dark laughing with him. Really good. As our laughter slowly fades, I realize he's still holding onto my hand. And that I'm letting him. I shrug. _Aw, what the hell_.

When we're quiet again, I repeat, "Go to sleep, Fawkes."

"Okay. G'night, Hobbesy."

"Night."

This time, Fawkes does what he's told. Within about five minutes, his breathing gets deep and even, and I know he's asleep. _Funny thing, though. Even then, he doesn't let go of my hand._ His grip loosens a bit, but not enough for me to pull away without waking him up.

I shrug and decide that's okay. Now that Fawkes is safe at last, that doesn't seem so important. _It's one of those little things. The things my shrinks are always telling me you're not supposed to sweat_. So I don't. Now that he's here beside me where I can keep an eye on him, and he's promised not to leave, I stop sweating, period. The hard knot of anxiety that formed in my belly hours ago, when he went invisible and took off, finally loosens, then disappears. 

I finally stop worrying about Darien for awhile, and think about myself. _I feel like crap_. I'm sticky. Sandy. And so fucking tired, I ache with it. I know Darien's tired and dirty, too. _Shower in the morning_, I promise myself. _We'll both do that._ _First thing_. 

At last, I give in. Let go. Relax. I close my eyes, and listen to Fawkes breathing. Even though it's kind of weird having him in my bed, and even stranger to have him holding onto my hand, it feels sort of good, too. _Nice to have someone else in my bed for a change. Even better that it's him. _I like the steady sound of his breathing. It sounds regular. Peaceful. Reassuring.

__

Fuck the Pacific, I think, with a sense of satisfaction this time. _He's gonna be okay. I'll make sure of that. Bobby Hobbes is on the case._

Darien's hand is warm in mine as I drift off.

***************************************

Later that night, my bad dreams come back. 

__

It's a different one this time, but it's familiar. I've had it a lot. _I'm back in prison. The first time. In Quentin, for B & E._

It's bad. 

I'm in the showers, and I've never been so scared in my whole life. Not even when I was arrested. Cops aren't nearly as scary as the guys who are standing near me. And I'm all alone. Outnumbered. Everyone else disappeared, like they knew this was gonna happen. Wish I could disappear, too. Or curl up into this little ball on the floor and pretend this isn't happening. I know I'm gonna end up there anyway.

'Cause there's seven of 'em. They're big, ugly mothers, with bulging muscles from years of prison workouts. A couple of them have shaved heads. All of 'em have ugly, menacing tattoos. I haven't been here long enough yet to know what gang they're from. That doesn't really matter anyway. What matters is, there's seven of them, and only one of me. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who's gonna win this confrontation. 

Or what they're gonna do to me.

They explained all that real clearly, actually. Spelled it out in graphic detail, with big smiles on their ugly faces.

Then they did it, while I screamed.

********************************************

__

What the fuck--? I wake with a start. Bobby Hobbes doesn't scare easy, but there's this sound, this awful, scary moaning beside me in the dark that sends my heart into overdrive. I just wanna get away from it, and I scramble up to a sitting position instinctively. Before I'm even half awake, I've got my back against the wall for self defense. Then my brain kicks in. _What the hell's going on?_ _Is that me? Was I in a fight?_ I wonder, still foggy with sleep. _Am I making that noise because I'm hurt?_ I pat myself down. Touch my chest, and realize that I'm not in pain. I'm tired, but not hurting.

__

It isn't me. That awful sound's coming from the other side of the bed.

At that, awareness comes back with a rush. _Darien. It's Darien! Oh, shit. He must be having a nightmare. A whopper, by the sound of it. _It's almost hard to believe. _I have nightmares a lot, but Fawkes? He's the stable one, the solid one. Least I always thought so, before tonight…. _But I'm starting to see how wrong I was about Fawkes being Mr. Casual, or some kinda Rock of Gibraltar, either. _He had a bad dream in the van, too. This is his second time tonight. The kid must have more demons inside than I ever knew_. 

__

And right now, they're after him.

He moans again, louder this time. This horrible moan, pain and terror mixed up together. I wonder if he's dreaming about the ocean, about what he tried to do tonight. But before I can say anything, his hands flail out. One of them hits me, and then things get worse. He cries out in fear, and I feel the bed dip. I hear this frantic scrabbling sound, and I know he's rolling away from me. Away from my touch. But I don't think he's awake yet. I reach out and turn on the lamp, and see that he's just about to roll right off the far edge of the bed. 

Don't want him to hurt himself, so I reach out and grab his arm. Pull him back into the middle of the bed. "Whoa there, Fawkes! Easy. Wake up --"

__

"Nnnoooo! Don't!" He's almost screaming. His eyes are still closed, but his chest's heaving. He pulls away from me frantically, and curls up into a ball_. _Knees up to his chest, arms over his face. He's shaking. Saying, "No, no!"

Geez. What do shrinks call that, the fetal position? Christ! I jerk my hand back, my heart pounding, scared for him_. Thank God I didn't take him back to his apartment and leave him alone! Whatever the fuck this is, it's bad. Don't think he's dreaming about that swim, either. I've never seen him like this. The only time I've seen anything like this is in combat. What the hell happened to him, that scared him that bad?_

Whatever it was, I know better than to try touching him again. Instead, I lower my voice and talk softly. "It's okay, Darien. You're just having a bad dream, partner. But it's over now. Darien, it's over. You're okay. Come on, buddy, wake up!"

Finally, after what seems like forever but is probably only a few seconds, Darien stops crying out. He's still breathing hard, chest heaving like he's been running, but I think he heard me. I think he's awake, but he's still got his arms up over his face, so I can't be sure.

I try again. "Hey, Darien. It's okay. You awake now?"

I see his throat working, see him swallow hard, see his chest rising and falling in rapid, panicked breaths. He still doesn't move, but finally, he croaks, "Bobby?" He's so hoarse, he doesn't even sound like himself. I can still feel his terror.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me. You okay?"

I wanna touch him, but I'm not sure I should yet, because he doesn't answer. He just takes this deep, shuddering breath, and blows it out again. I give him a minute. I don't say anything, I just watch while the awful tension drains out of his muscles, and his breathing gradually slows. He drops his arms and starts to uncurl, and I can almost feel his relief. 

Finally, I reach over and touch his shoulder. "You okay?" 

He nods dully, but I know he's lying. He's shaking, and he's cold. He's like ice. When he finally looks up at me, his face is pale. His hair's stuck to his forehead, matted with cold sweat. And his eyes --

__

Jesus. His eyes are wide and black with pain. That look tears into me. Makes me feel just like I did when Viv left. Helpless. Left out. 'Cause I don't have a clue what's going on with him. What brought this on. And for once, Fawkes isn't talking.

From the look of him, he probably can't. Not yet.

"Stay here," I tell him. I've had more than a little experience with nightmares myself. _Oh, yeah. Been there, done that, got the fucking T-shirt._ And I know what always makes me feel better. I get up and go into the bathroom. Wet a facecloth, and bring it back to him. Fawkes is sitting up now, in the middle of the bed. He's breathing better, but he's still pale. His head's hanging, and he's staring at nothing.

"Here." I hold the cloth out to him.

He gives me this blank, confused look, like he doesn't have a clue what to do with it. Then he looks away again, without taking it. _Wherever that nightmare took him to, I guess part of him is still there. He's not thinking straight yet_. So I climb back onto the bed beside him. I hesitate for a second, wondering if he'll let me do this. _What the hell. Never know until you try_. "Hey, Fawkesy."

When he turns his head to look at me again, I reach out and use the cloth to gently wipe the sweat off his forehead. I keep my voice as soft as that touch. "Ya look like crap," I tell him gently. "Scared the crap outta me, too."

Fawkes doesn't smile. But to my surprise, he doesn't pull away, either. He closes his eyes and swallows hard, while I wipe the sweat off his face. "That feels good," he whispers. "Thanks." 

I shrug. "No problem."

I do some more blotting, then Darien silently takes the cloth away and finishes wiping the sweat off his face himself. To my surprise, he's still not talking. _Hell, he won't even look at me. Embarrassed, I guess. If he only knew how many times I've woke up screaming, he wouldn't be. _For a second, I consider just letting him be, and not prying into this. _I wish I could._ _But after what he just did … it probably wouldn't be safe to just let it go. If I'm gonna protect him, I gotta know what's going on here_. "You gonna tell me what that was all about?"

Instead of answering the question, Darien bends his head and wipes the sweat off the back of his neck. The gesture helps to hide his eyes, and I figure he meant it to. "Sorry I woke you," he says tersely.

Those words are as much a warning as they are an apology. He's telling me to back off, that he doesn't want to talk about this. But I can't let it go. "That doesn't matter. Fawkes, what --"

He turns to look at me again, and suddenly, his face is tight. Blazing with anger. "Don't! Just shut up, dammit! _Stop_ _mothering me_!" he snarls.

That hurts. After all we've been through, especially after tonight, that cuts deep. That he'd shut me out like that, get pissed off when I'm only trying to help. I know he didn't mean to do it, that he's really freaked out because of that dream, not angry at me. Still, it stings. I shrug and look away, not wanting him to see that. "Okay. You're right. Let's just forget it."

He hangs his head again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him squeeze the face cloth until his hand turns white. "Bobby --"

"No, it's fine," I shrug. "You don't wanna talk about it, that's okay. I was just kinda concerned, ya know, 'cause you were screamin' and all. But if you think that makes me sound like your mother, then --"

Darien's sets his jaw so hard that a muscle quivers in his cheek. "Okay. It was about _prison!_" he grates, from between clenched teeth. "I have bad dreams sometimes. About _prison_. Okay?"

__

Oh geez. Dunno what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. _And it's not okay._ I feel a jolt of pain, of empathy, iced with cold horror. This time, I'm the one who doesn't answer.

"It's nothing, all right?" Fawkes insists, but we both know he's lying. 

__

Still, at least he opened up a bit. Enough to tell me what that nightmare was about. But knowing makes me feel worse for him. Because now I can guess what scared him so bad in prison, and it makes me sick. Sick to even think about it. _Darien's so gentle -- and he didn't have any training in self defense, either. He wouldn't've had a chance. I always used to wonder why he never talks much about doing time. Guess now I know._

Darien draws in a shaky breath, and I can sense what it cost him to even tell me that much. So I don't push it any further. "Okay. Yeah, sure, kid. It's okay." 

Darien nods. I know he must feel relieved, but he doesn't show it. He doesn't show any emotion at all. He hands the cloth back to me without a word, without even looking at me. But he doesn't realize what his face is revealing. He's got this stony, blank expression that's so completely closed off, and so totally not like him, that it speaks volumes. 

__

For the first time since I've known him, he looks tough. Hard. Like the ruthless ex-con he likes to pretend he is. Think I'm seeing his prison face -- and I don't like it. _Maybe it's part of him, but it's a learned part, it's not natural. Not who Darien really is_. _That's how guys look when they get pushed past their limits. When the only way to stay sane is to retreat mentally, to go deep inside yourself. I hate whoever did that to him. Whoever taught him to look like that_. 

I take the sweat-soaked cloth back to the bathroom, rinse it out and then go back to bed. But this time, when I climb back in beside Fawkes, I feel a little awkward. _I know I shouldn't. I just found out, he's like me in a way I never realized. He has nightmares, too. But they're not like mine. Even though he didn't give me any details, I'm pretty sure about that._ _So_ _I'm not sure what to say to him. What he wants me to say or do, if anything. I've never known anyone with this kind of problem before. With this kind of past._ _I wanna help him, but I don't know how, or if he'll even let me._

All that worry must show on my face, because Fawkes takes one look at me and says, "Let's just go back to sleep, okay?" He almost sounds like he's pleading, and a hint of embarrassment, of shame, colors his expression. _Wish I could tell him not to feel like that. What, does he think he's the only guy in the world who has bad dreams? Then again, maybe it's what he went through in the joint that's embarrassing him, more than the fact that he woke up yelling. _

In any case, it's obvious he'd rather have teeth pulled than talk about it anymore. So I let it go. For now. "Sure, partner." I climb back into bed and turn out the light again. "Night, Fawkes."

He doesn't say anything, but I hear him lie down beside me again. Still, for a long time after that, he doesn't go back to sleep. I know, because I don't either. I can hear Darien breathing, and the rhythm's way too fast for a sleeper.

__

He's still upset, I think. _He can't let go of it_. I lie there thinking about it, about the unexpected things that -- and his nightmare -- says about Darien Fawkes. _I always thought he was cheerful by nature. Carefree, before he got forced into working for the Agency. 'Cause he's got that sexy, cocky walk. That whole loose, slouchy thing going on. His body language always says, I'm on top of the world. I've never had a worry in my life. _

Guess that's not true. Seems like he's carrying a load of pain around in that seemingly loose, agile body. There's a lot of bad memories lurking behind his handsome face. Prison, for starters. Then losing his brother, and last but not least, ending up at the Agency. Guess it's not surprising he has nightmares. What's amazing is that he's still sane. Still funny and brave and caring, after all that.

At least, he was when he first came to the Agency. But somehow, lately, he's slipped. He's on the edge now. Tonight, he almost went over it. And I don't think it was because of whatever's behind that nightmare, either. That was about prison, so he must've been having it -- and living with whatever caused it -- for a long time. Years, maybe. But he was doing okay anyway, until lately. So something else must've gotten to him recently, to make him take that swim. Maybe that fear, whatever it is, brought those prison nightmares back, too.

I feel a twinge of guilt, because I have some idea what it is he's scared of. _That fucking gland. He must've got hurt in prison, but at least I didn't have anything to do with that.… But I think that thing in his head's hurt him even worse. And I am a part of that. Part of what keeps him trapped here. _

That hurts, way down deep inside. The thought that I'm no better, in a way, than those goons who must've hurt Fawkes in prison; because I'm doing almost the same thing. Keeping him down, keeping him trapped in a place he hates. 

__

Not for the first time, I wonder how just doing my job led me to this: hurting my own partner. In the beginning, I thought the gland was a good thing. I was glad we were the only ones who had an invisible spy. Glad that it gave us an edge. I thought of all the good Fawkes could do with it. How he could help his country. 

He has…. But now that I know him, now that we've gotten close, I'm starting to think maybe that help costs too much. That the US government should find some other way to use Fawkes's talents than by keeping that damn gland in his brain, and shoving drugs and needles into him all the time, to keep it going. It's getting to the kid, I think. Slowly but surely --

Suddenly, like he can hear what I'm thinking, Darien sits up beside me. I can't see him, but I can hear his jeans rustle against the sheets. He must know I'm not sleeping either, because he asks, "Okay if I take a shower?" His voice is quiet now. Not angry anymore. Not so shook up.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," I say automatically. "There's fresh towels in there." I sit up again, and turn on the light for him. _But I wonder what he's going in there to try to wash off: his nightmare, or that long swim. Maybe both. Wonder if it'll work, either way._

"Thanks, Hobbes." 

Then I get one of my paranoid flashes. _Oh no. Maybe I shouldn't let him do that! I know he promised he wouldn't leave, but he didn't say he wouldn't try anything stupid again. That dream really freaked him out, and there might be a lot worse things in my bathroom than fresh towels._

But it's too late to say no now. Fawkes is already up, and padding towards the bathroom. Then he stops, and looks back over his shoulder. "Go back to sleep, Bobby," he says gently. Like he knows I'm still worried about him. Like he's trying to make up for jumping down my throat before.

"Yeah, sure," I lie. Like I can sleep when my partner, who just tried to whack himself, is heading for my bathroom! Too late, I realize that he could lock himself in there. _I'd have to break down the door…. Aw, crap!_ Heart racing, I start frantically doing this mental inventory of the room's contents. _No scissors, no sharp objects…. My razor's on my dresser, and my pills are all in there, too. So he's safe. Unless he can figure out a way to brain himself with my toothbrush, there's nothing in there he could hurt himself with. All right. It's all right, he'll be okay. _

The tension drains out of me, and I lie back down, realizing that I'm still tired. I look at my clock. _Geez, it's only 3:30. No wonder!_ _We hardly got any sleep at all, before he had that nightmare, and woke us up again. _I wait for the sound of the water turning on in my shower. When it comes, I feel better. _But I don't think I'll be able to go back to sleep until he comes outta there._

Still, I close my eyes. _Fuck, I'm tired._

I think maybe the tranks I took earlier are finally starting to kick in, because my eyes feel heavy. But I know I can't just go to sleep. I'm more worried about Fawkes than ever, now. _First he wouldn't tell me why he went swimming. Now I find out he has nightmares about prison too, but he won't talk about them, either._

All that darkness, all that silence. From the wild child. The party boy who loves to play, who loves to talk and tease. It doesn't make sense. Doesn't jibe with the Fawkes I know. 

"Bobby, I'm scared. I'm so scared…" 

He's not the only one. I listen to the sound of the water, and wonder if the Darien I know is the real thing, or just the tip of the Fawkesian iceberg. Just the little bit of him he's felt safe letting me see up 'till now.

***************************

I take my time with my shower. I wash my hair, then let the hot water run over me for awhile. Let it warm me up, steam the chill of my nightmare out of my bones. _I haven't had that damn dream for a long time. Why the fuck did I have to have it tonight? In Hobbes' bed? FUCK! Now he knows…. At least, he suspects. I saw it in his eyes. And that's bad enough. _

It sucks. Shame rushes through me. I can feel my face burning, turning red. I hang my head under the spray, let it wash over my head and neck, as if that will sluice away all the bad feelings. My past, my humiliation, my fears. _But I know it won't. _

I try to tell myself it doesn't matter that Bobby found out. That what happened to me in prison wasn't exactly a secret anyway. _I've never told anyone at the Agency about it, but I'm sure they've all probably figured it out on their own._ _At least some of it. Everyone knows what happens to pretty boys in prison, right?_

__

Yeah, everyone. Including Bobby. That's what really hurts. _I don't care much about the others, about what they think -- but I never wanted Bobby to know. Never. Not for sure -- and now he does. Worse, he wanted me to talk about it! _

"Shit," I mutter under my breath, remembering the sickening, almost nauseating humiliation I felt, when he tried to ask me what woke me up screaming_. I got so embarrassed, I acted like an idiot. He was being kind, trying to help me, and I lost it, and lit into him. _I feel a sharp stab of regret. _I'm such a prick, sometimes! _

I set my jaw hard, so hard that my teeth grind together. I'm so wound up, my whole body feels like one huge knot. I lean forward a bit more, and let the water pound on my shoulders, trying to ease the tension there. _I should apologize. I wanna talk to him, I really do. I need to. But not about that. I've never talked to anyone on the outside about that. Not even Kevin, or Casey. She heard me wake up screaming once, and she asked me about it, too. But I couldn't tell her either._

I've never told anyone, except the prison doc that time. I don't know how to. I don't think I can talk to Bobby about it, either. He's so macho, so tough … Don't think he could ever understand what it was like.

That's why I'm in here. _It's not about taking a shower -- I'm really hiding. Hiding from Bobby, from the questions in his eyes. The questions about prison. I could practically hear them bouncing around in his head, after I woke him up screaming like that. _

The hot water's pouring down on me, but I still feel cold inside. _How's that old saying go? Life sucks, then you die? Well, in my case, it'd be more like:_ _Life sucks, then they put a gland in your head, and it gets worse. Then the government won't **let** you die, 'cause you're worth too much!_

I shake my head. _Bad joke, Fawkes. If that's the best you can do, you oughtta get out more_. _Speaking of getting out, maybe I'd better. I've been in here so long, I'm gonna turn into a six-foot-something prune if I don't_._ Besides, if I know Bobby, he's probably lying out there worrying about me, instead of going back to sleep. _

I force myself to turn off the water, and get out of the shower. _Can't hide forever_, I tell myself. _Much as I'd like to._

As I dry off and towel dry my hair, I try to put what just happened out of my mind by concentrating on what I'm doing. _Focus on the moment, on the task at hand. Nothing else. _That's another little trick I learned in prison_. Fuck the future, screw the past. Live in the now_. It helps a bit. My fear and shame recede a little, but they don't go away. That dream was too intense, too vivid for me to banish the feelings it brought back very easily. 

Once again, I wonder at its timing. _I don't understand why I had it now, when I'm with Hobbes. He makes me feel safe. Once we made it back to shore, I did feel safe. So why the fuck did that happen?_ _I don't have that nightmare very often anymore. Usually only when I drink too much, or when I get really stressed out._

Bingo! The light goes on in my head. _Stress! Of course! That's it! That's why I had it! I've been feeling bad for a long time, and tonight, it got to be too much. Once Bobby found me, I felt safe, but before that -- I just about killed myself. That must be why that frigging dream came back! Because of the stress of that swim. 'Cause I was so upset over everything, and feeling so bad about myself after Bobby's rejection. My mind just went back to the last time I felt that bad, after I was attacked in prison. _

That realization makes me feel a little better. _At least I know it has nothing to do with Bobby, or being in his bed, or my feelings about him. _

Or does it?

I get another disturbing little flash of insight. _What happened to me in prison is one of the few important things Hobbes doesn't know about me. This dirty little secret I've been too afraid to tell him. Maybe I didn't have the dream because I went swimming. Maybe I had it because Bobby was lying right next to me, and even though he means so much to me, I'm still too ashamed to tell him the truth about my past. Maybe that was my subconscious, telling me that I need to._

Shit!

Just when you think maybe you've got yourself all figured out, you realize you don't.

I towel my face dry, and take a look at myself in Bobby's mirror. _I look crappy. My face is pale, my hair's still damp and messy, and I look tired. No, I look freaked. Surprise, surprise. _I try to smile, but the resulting grimace looks so bad, it even scares me. I frown at my reflection. _I can't go back to bed looking like this. Bobby'll worry himself sick, or try to ask me more questions._

I bow my head_. I can't take that. Not now. I'm having a hard enough time, just trying to figure out a way to explain my swim to him. But prison, too -- that's too much. Too much pain, too much ugly shit to confess, all at once. I can't do it._

But I know I should. _Fuck! What do I do?_ I know I've gotta go back out there, but I'm afraid. I'm all mixed up. I feel humiliated. Confused. I picture telling Bobby, and how he might react -- how he might freak -- and it's too much. The strain starts to build inside me. I hear this roaring in my ears, and I can feel my heart beating way too hard. I grip the edges of Bobby's bathroom sink so hard that my fingers turn white. I feel this little tremor in my hands. _I want to! But I can't --_

Finally, just when I think I'm about to snap, this voice inside me says, _Chill out! Calm down. If you can't tell him about the rape, then forget it! Don't. Let that part of it go for tonight. Stop thinking about prison, about that goddamn dream and what Bobby may think of you because of it. It's not getting you anywhere, and_ _if you don't stop, you'll never have the guts to leave his bathroom._ _You'll stay in here all night, making yourself crazy all over again. And making Bobby crazy, too._

Let it go for now. Just let it go.

Okay. I feel pressure releasing inside, like steam hissing out of a suddenly opened valve_. _

I let out a breath of relief_. I'll tell Bobby about my swim right now. The rest can wait._

Okay. That sounds like a plan. _I can do that. _The awful tension drains back out of me, and when I look down, I see my hands loosen their death grip on Hobbes' sink. I close my eyes and mentally shove all of the rest of it, the whole ugly, dark kit and caboodle of my prison past, down into this deep, dark hole in my mind. Then I imagine slamming a lid down on those memories. This big trap door that's heavy enough to hold them all in, so they won't bother me for awhile. 

That helps. Suddenly, I can think of other things. Like how tired I still am, despite that shower. And how much I really, really want to go back to Bobby's soft, warm bed, lie down beside him, and sleep. _Really sleep, with no nightmares this time_.

__

Maybe I'll be able to, after I tell him about my swim.

I let go of the sink, look into the mirror again and try another smile. It looks better this time. Almost human. Nearly normal. _Okay. I'm good to go. _Then I realize, I'm not quite ready to go back to bed yet, because I'm still naked.

__

Wish I had my p.j.'s with me. The old striped ones, that I like to sleep in. Or even a pair of underwear. Anything but my jeans._ But I don't even have any underwear with me. I wasn't wearing any when I came over here. Slut_, I think ruefully, remembering how I thought I could seduce Bobby. _That seems like a hundred years ago now._ _So much has happened since then. _

I feel a twinge of fear. _After what Bobby just found out about me, I doubt he'd appreciate it if I climbed into his bed buck naked. Then again _…_after the way he looked at me when I teased him about the sugar, maybe he would._

I think about it for a second, about Bobby wanting me, and the thought's flavored brightly with hope. But then my darker feelings come back. I remember the stunned look in his eyes when I told him my nightmare was about prison, and I reluctantly decide I'd better not leave my jeans off. _Bobby's probably already regretting that he even brought me here. He knew I was a freak, but not that kinda freak. Better not push it. _

So I pick up my jeans with a sigh. _They're dry now, but they're still kinda sandy. Hate to put 'em back on after I just showered, but I guess I don't have much choice._ I shake them a little, experimentally, and sand rains onto Bobby's bathroom tiles.I shake them again, harder, and more sand rains down. _Oops!_ _Oh well. Better here than in Hobbes' bed, I guess. I'll clean that up in the morning. _

I pull my now relatively sand-free jeans back on, turn out the light, and head back to bed.

But to my surprise, Bobby's not waiting for me anymore. All that agonizing I just did was a waste of time. I don't have to explain anything now, because Bobby's asleep. I blink at him. _What a relief!_ _Saved by the bell_. _Now I don't have to talk about my swim, or prison, or any of it. I can just go to sleep_. 

I feel a wave of relief.

__

I know I'm just putting off the inevitable. I know I've gotta tell him, and soon. _But not just now…._ _And that's okay by me. I'm really, really tired. Ready to crash_. I settle down beside him as quietly as I can, grateful that I won't have to answer any more questions about prison. _At least, not tonight_. _I have this feeling Bobby won't let it go, though. He's like that. We don't call him the little tiger for nothing. He's tenacious as a tiger, when he gets his teeth into something. Especially when it has to do with me._

I reach over and turn out his little bedside lamp again. _Bobby must be really exhausted_, I think. _Not only did he conk out again while I was in the shower, but he even fell asleep with the light on. _Knowing that makes me feel oddly tender, because I know he wore himself out for me.

I remember how he came after me. _Half a mile or more out in the ocean, in the dark. I still don't even have a clue how he found me! He'll probably never tell me; but it was amazing_. _Bobby's just -- amazing. All that protectiveness, all that drive, intensity and loyalty, focused on me._ _Maybe I should call him Mom, instead of little tiger_. I feel myself smiling.

When my eyes adjust to the darkness again, I look over at Hobbes. He's lying on his side facing me, like he fell asleep waiting for me to come out of the shower. He's wearing pajamas, but the top's not buttoned, so I can see his chest. It looks strong. Muscular. Really sexy._ I wanna touch it. _Aroused, I almost reach out and do it. But then I look at his face. _He looks as tired as I do. Even though he's asleep, I can see hints of strain around his eyes. I know they're because of me._

So I don't caress him. But God, I want to. This familiar ache settles in, way down deep in my chest. _I feel so much. Whenever I look at him, whenever I think about him. It's crazy, I never expected it, but it's there. Still … it's dangerous, to feel that much for someone. I know that. For years, I didn't let myself care about anyone that much. But Bobby… he just got past me somehow. He got inside me, and now I can't get him out. _

I don't even want to. Even though that's why I wound up out in the Pacific, in the middle of the night. Remembering that swim still scares me. _But I'd do it again if I had to, to save Bobby. _

But only if I had to. I don't wanna kill myself anymore. I don't wanna have to leave him. I wanna find a way that I can be with him, but still make sure he's safe. That's what it all comes down to, for me. That's what I want: to be with Bobby, but keep him safe. _There's gotta be a way…._

It hits me that I've come a long way from the selfish, thoughtless guy I used to be. _A long way, down a really strange road. Some of it's been pure hell. But it hasn't been all bad, 'cause look where I wound up._ _Next to Bobby Hobbes. In love with him. _I watch him sleeping, and emotion fills me up. I feel it beating inside me, like this giant heart. "Bobby," I whisper. 

He stirs a little. But he doesn't wake up, and I know he needs his sleep, so I don't say it again. For awhile, I just lie there in the dark, watching him sleep. But it gets to be like torture. _It's just not enough_. _I wanna be closer to him. I want…._ _I know I shouldn't do this, but what the hell. That's never stopped me before_. 

I swallow hard, and take a risk. I edge over to him, quiet as I can, and touch his shoulder lightly, to see how deep he's sleeping. He lets out this little sigh and turns over onto his back, but he still doesn't wake up. 

__

He must be tired, if even that didn't wake him. He usually wakes up instantly, if I touch him when he's asleep. But not this time. So he's really out. Good.

I move over a little more. Just enough so that I can lay my head on his chest, and put my arm around his waist. I do it lightly, slowly, so he won't wake up. I know I'm stealing this embrace, that Bobby's unaware of it, but I don't care. _I'm a thief, after all. It's what I do_. _Besides, it's just for now_, I tell myself. _Just for a little while, while he's asleep. I'll let go when he wakes up. Move away. But for now, I need this…. And what Bobby doesn't know, won't hurt him_, I think, with a lump in my throat.

I lay my head in the hollow of his shoulder and hold him gently. Bobby draws a deep breath, then relaxes again. His breathing goes back to that slow, sleepy rhythm, and he doesn't move. _I did it! Got next to him without waking him, like a good little thief. _I close my eyes. _Mm, this feels good_. I can feel the warmth of his skin, feel his strong, solid body under me. A wave of contentment flows through me. _It's amazing, how such a little thing can go so deep. Maybe it's because I came so close to the brink tonight, I don't know._

Whatever the reason, holding him feels incredibly good. Eyes closed, I listen to the soft thumping in Bobby's chest. The sound of his fierce, loyal heart, beating steadily under my cheek while he sleeps. It's wonderful. It makes me feel safe. Peaceful. I haven't felt that in a long time. Not in so many years that safety seems like a luxury to me now. So does closeness. And it isn't his high-tech security system that makes me feel protected, either. It's Hobbes who makes me feel safe. Bobby who gives me that, and I'm grateful. 

__

I'm where I wanted to be now. Close to Bobby.

Got a feeling I won't have any more bad dreams tonight….

Maybe I'll even tell him about that dream. About prison. About my swim, too. Gotta tell him why I did it. Soon….

I breathe in Bobby's scent. Drink in his warmth. Feel my heart settle into a rhythm with his, as peace settles over me like a blanket. _I wonder how I ever lived without this. Without him. I don't wanna let go of him, ever again._

Even though I know I have to. That when he wakes up, I'll have to….

No, the stubborn, greedy, thief part of me says_. Nevernevernever!_

I hold onto Bobby, wishing it could be like that as I drift off.

***************************

I wake up while it's still dark. Well, I almost wake up. My eyes open, but I'm not there yet. I usually snap awake in seconds -- the legacy of half a life spent in dangerous jobs, where that ability can mean the difference between life and death. But I feel foggy now. _Can't focus_. _The pills_, I think dizzily. _I took pills earlier_…. 

__

Something's wrong! There's this warm, heavy weight almost covering me. _I'm not alone._ _Someone's lying on top of me! Fuck! How'd that happen? Who is it? Viv? No, she's gone… _But my mind's still so foggy with sleep and my meds that I can't remember getting in bed with anyone else, either. I don't remember it, period.

I feel a surge of panic. Before I can wake up, get my mind working, old reflexes kick in. My whole body tenses, and I start measuring the threat. _The person on top of me's big. Bigger 'n me. Heavy. Muscular. So it's probably a guy._ I almost roll whoever it is over, so I can get him into a choke-hold. But those same old reflexes stop me. _That could be dangerous. Whoever he is, he could be armed. _So I reach up carefully. Slowly, silently, without taking my eyes off the dark shape on top of me, and I fumble for a minute until I find my little bedside lamp. I turn it on, poised to pounce if the intruder so much as twitches when the light comes on. 

But he doesn't. He just lies there. _Good thing too, 'cause he's probably half a foot taller 'n me._ But I can't see his face from this angle, just the top of his head. For a chilling second, I think, _He's dead. Did I kill him?_ _Why don't I remember doing it?_

Then I realize, the guy on top of me hasn't croaked. He's just sleeping with his head on my chest. He must be, because he's still warm. He's not cold like a corpse, and now that the light's on, I can see his back rising and falling as he breathes. As I watch him, I realize there's something familiar about his back, about his big, muscular body. Something familiar in a good way. 

__

Whoever this is, I know him. I like him. He's not a threat…. 

The lethal edge to my tension ebbs away. I'm relieved, but even more confused and surprised. _Why is a guy in bed with me?_ I study his dark head. His muscular arm, that's stretched out across my waist. His thick, damp, curly hair. _Who is_ --

It's the hair that does it. The sight of all that wild, unruly hair cuts right through the haze of weariness in my head. The fog of sleep and medication finally lifts, and I snap fully awake as memory comes rushing back. _Fawkes._ _Of course, it's Darien! Darien Fawkes. My partner, Mr. Hair. It's okay._

I close my eyes, let out a breath as the fear subsides, and my heart rate slows. I look down at Fawkes again, wondering if I'm dreaming this. I even blink, but he still doesn't disappear. He's got his head on my chest, and his arm around me. What's even stranger, my right arm's wrapped around him, too. _How the hell did that happen_? _I should be weirded out_. _I mean, I've got a guy in my bed! My own partner. We've got our arms around each other._ But it doesn't feel weird. In fact, just for a second, I feel this little thrill. _How'd he get here? Did we --?_

What the hell happened tonight? 

I search my memory, and slowly, things start to come back. _Fawkes freaked out, and went swimming. I brought him back. We couldn't sleep, so I brought him in here. Then he had a nightmare, and he took a shower…. That's all I remember. I don't remember Darien getting back into bed, so he must've done that after I went back to sleep. Guess I must've dozed off while he was in the bathroom_. 

Anyhow, there's no sex involved. No sex anywhere in those memories. Not even a hint of it_. And I'd sure as hell remember that. _

So, we didn't fuck. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed. Maybe both. _Wonder how we ended up together like this, though? Was it by accident, or did he do this on purpose? Hug me while I was asleep? There's no way to tell. Fawkes is asleep now, sound asleep._ _Guess I could wake him up and ask him, but … after the night he had, and that frigging nightmare on top of it, I probably shouldn't. Besides, maybe he just rolled up against me accidentally, in his sleep. Probably doesn't even know he did it._

Then again, he did the same thing in the car. Draped himself all over me while he was asleep. But he wasn't snoozing after, when he climbed into bed and held my hand…. I smile to myself. _Who'd've thunk it? Never would've pegged Fawkes for the touchy/feely type, awake or asleep_. _Until tonight, that is._ _Learned a lotta stuff about him tonight that I never knew before -- including that. _

I think back on what I know about Fawkes' early life._ Dad left when he was five. Then his mom died, too. So he and Kevin were abandoned, big time, when they were really little. Raised by his aunt and uncle. Wonder if the way he likes to touch and hug has something to do with that? Wonder if he didn't get enough of that, enough physical affection, when he was a kid?_

Could be. Then again, could be that he's just a sensual bastard. 

Either way, now that I know he's like that, I'm not sure I mind. 

I think back through all of it. All the times we touched tonight -- that little kiss on the beach, holding Fawkes while he cried, the way he slept on my shoulder in the car, and having him in my arms now -- and I didn't really mind any of it. 

__

Hell, I liked it. Every minute of it. I'm loving this, too.

__

It's kinda weird, 'cause I don't usually like to be touched. I like my space, my own personal space. Years of martial arts practice kinda makes you hyper aware of that. I like people to keep their distance. Most people, anyway. Except for women, of course. With sex, that's different. Viv wasn't much of a cuddler, though. Didn't like me to hold onto her after we made love. But I've been with women before her who did, and I liked it. 

Never imagined cuddling with a guy, though. 

But here I am, doing it. Liking it. I don't mind Darien touching me. Don't mind having him in my space, in my arms, or in my bed. Actually, now that I think about it, the kid's been in my space for awhile. He tends to stick close by me, right by my side, and it's never bothered me. Huh. Funny. Besides, I've been holding him and kissing him in my dreams. So I guess you could say I've been practicing for this. Maybe that's why this feels all right. 

More than all right. It feels good.

It surprises me, just how good it feels. So for a few minutes, I just lie there, getting used to holding Fawkes in my arms while he sleeps. _It feels almost -- I dunno. Like I should be paying for the privilege, or something. It's a luxury, having the wild child safe and sound here with me. It's almost too good to be true. And the way he's sleeping all curled around me…._

It just gets to me. _The trust in it. The pure, bone-deep trust he has for me. It's like he trusts me to look after him, not to hurt him, even when he's at his most vulnerable. Even when he's asleep_. It's pretty amazing that he can trust another guy like that, after what he must've gone through in prison.

That thought makes me wince, so I shove it away. _Don't wanna think about that now…. I've got enough on my mind right now, without worrying about what being in prison did to Darien. We'll have to talk about that later. _

I can't stop thinking about Darien, though.

__

He's quiet for once. It's kinda nice. 

I realize, there's some advantages to this_. Since I woke up first, I get to stroke him, kiss him, whatever I want… Get to check Darien out, without his smart mouth getting in the way_. _Without him teasing me. I can take my time. Hold him and look at him, without getting razzed about it_. 

So I do. I watch him sleep for a minute, smiling down at the thick tangle of his hair. _He must've washed it, 'cause it's not stiff and salty anymore. It's clean. Shiny. Beautiful._ _Thick and dark and wild, just like him._ I get this urge to touch it again. Run my fingers through it.

__

Don't. He's asleep. That wouldn't be right.

But I can't help myself. _Kid's hair would tempt a frickin' saint -- and I ain't no saint_. So I indulge myself. I raise my left arm, the one that's not holding him, and gently, lightly touch his hair. It's silky. Soft. Still a bit damp from the shower. I play with it for a minute, then pull my hand back, afraid I'll wake him up. He doesn't move, though. So I do it again. _Who knows? I may never get another chance_.

First I just touched it. This time, I stroke it. Let my hand linger on it. I pet him, pet all that soft, wild hair. It feels good. Silky. Sexy. It makes me smile, 'cause I've been wanting to do this for a long time. I start stroking it, like you'd pet a cat.

Fawkes makes a soft, contented sound, deep in his throat. Then his eyes flutter open. "Bobby?"

__

Aw, crap. _That did it! I woke him up_. Darien's dark head lifts, and my heart skips a beat. I jerk my hand back fast. Heat rushes to my face, and I don't know what the hell to say to him. I feel like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In his partner's cookie jar. While his partner was asleep.

Fawkes isn't embarrassed at all. Of course. Doesn't seem like he's freaked out by his nightmare anymore, either. In fact, he seems totally at ease. He sets his chin on my chest, and gives me this sleepy grin. "Morning, beautiful."

"Aw geez." I roll my eyes, completely embarrassed. _He's nuts! He's the one who's beautiful, not me._ _He's got those big, dark eyes like warm chocolate. High cheekbones. Full, curvy, sensual lips. His hair's tousled from my petting, so it's not spiky now, it's curling around his face. But even mussed up, he's still gorgeous. He looks young. So young. Like a surfer, like one of those surfer boys you see in those ads for Sex Wax. Aw crap, why'd I have to think of that?_ _Why is it that I can't even think about Fawkes, without thinking about sex?_

__

Stupid question. And it's not something I want him to know, either. He's way too cocky as it is. So I try to distract him. "It's not quite morning yet, pal. It's barely even started to get light out."

He ignores that. "Whatcha doin'?" he asks, his brown eyes wide. The picture of sweet innocence.

If you didn't know him better, that is. But I do, and I can see it in his eyes. _The wickedness. That evil little twinkle Darien always gets, when he's teasing someone_. _He knows exactly what I was doing, and why. He knows I was caressing him, getting off on touching his hair. And judging by his expression, he was liking it, too. But he's gotta torture me anyway. Try to make me admit it. Darien, the Sex Wax kid._

I know this game. Boy, do I know it! It's Fawkes's favorite thing. But I don't feel like playing right now, so I shake my head. "Don't start with me, Fawkes."

But he doesn't listen. He pulls himself up next to me, so that his head's on a level with mine. Raises himself up on an elbow, looks down at me and smiles with that same wide-eyed, innocent look again. "Don't start what, Hobbesy?" 

__

Hobbesy. I should sock him, right on that pretty jaw. But I don't, because he's so good looking, and because he smells good, too_. Like soap, shampoo, water and bare skin. He's warm. Muscular. Handsome…. I can think of a lot more interesting things to do to him than hit him._ Those things fill my head, until my heart's beating fast and it's hard to think. 

Fawkes is so good-looking, so inviting that this little voice in the back of my mind starts to doubt what's happening. I look at how he's smiling, how he's teasing me, and it whispers, _Guy with hair like that, eyes like that -- why would he want you? He's playing with you_. _Just playing, that's all_. _Like he always does_. _Because you're here, and because you're safe. This doesn't really mean anything to him…._

That hurts. Jerks a response out of me, before I can stop it. "Don't tease me, Fawkes," I grate, my voice suddenly harsh. "Don't!"

Darien freezes. His smile disappears. He reaches over and gently, really gently, touches my face. "I'm not. This isn't --" For once, he's the one who's at a loss for words. "I'm not playing with you, Bobby," he says, and his voice is raw now, too. 

I don't know what to say. _I wanna believe him, but I don't know if I can_. _Not about this_….

Fawkes bites his lip and draws his hand back. Pulls it away from my face like he thinks I didn't want him touching me. Pain bleeds into his eyes. Pain that's stark and real. 

In that second, I know I was wrong. _Oh shit._ _Me and my big mouth!_ _He really meant it. He does want me! He wasn't kidding, wasn't playing around._ _I was wrong, and I freaked him out. Again. _My heart turns over. 

Darien's face tightens, and he lowers his head, averting his eyes. "I know I don't -- I'm not …" He breaks off, runs a hand through his hair, his face tightening. He sits up, agitated. "Aw, crap. Shit, I shouldn't even be here!" he says thickly, and he's got this guilty, you-deserve-better look on his face. 

__

This is what I get for being paranoid, for listening to that goddamn voice inside that always thinks the worst about everything -- and everyone. 

__

I just wanted Fawkes to be honest, but instead, I opened a wound. I can see it. _He looks desperate. Almost sick all of a sudden. Like he did down on the beach. Dunno why, but it's obvious my question made him feel like shit. What the hell shredded his self confidence so bad that he thinks it's a mistake even to be with someone who's short and bald, like me?_ _Did the damn gland do this?_

"Hey, hey!" I gentle my voice, reach out and touch him just as gently. Trying to calm him down, trying to make up for somehow hurting him. "What're you talkin' about? I didn't mean --"

Darien doesn't react to my caress. He just shakes his head, staring down at the blanket. His throat works, like he's almost choking. "I just -- I'm like that sign by the stairs. By the beach, you know?" He sounds scared, like he's almost panicking.

I shake my head, even more confused. _What the hell's he talking about?_ I remember there was a sign by the stairs at Black's, but I ran by it so fast chasing after him that I never even noticed what it said. "No. Darien, what --"

"Unsafe. Unstable! That's what it said!" he bursts out. "And that's what I am! I'm the last person who should try to get close to anyone. I know that, but I can't -- I can't…."

"Leave?" I finish for him, my own voice unsteady now. "Is that what you're trying to say? You think you should leave? For my sake?"

"Yeah." He sounds miserable. Even humiliated. When he nods, he avoids my eyes.

__

I was right -- it's the Quicksilver madness! His demon. That's what's getting to him! Wondered if that had something to do with his midnight swim. Now I know. Sorry I made him feel insecure, but at least I finally got a hint what his problem is. _I was starting to wonder if he was ever gonna tell me. _

Then I remember my terrible suspicion, down on the beach. That it wasn't just doing violence in general when he goes mad that was bugging Darien. It was the fact that he hurt me in particular that really got to him, that sent him into the ocean. For a second, I almost ask him if that's it. If I was right. _But he's so upset, I'm afraid if I push, it'll drive him away before he even really gets started talking about his suicide attempt._

"Well, I don't. I don't want you to go," I say quickly. "That's not what I meant --"

Darien just shakes his head. He turns like he's gonna climb out of bed. I feel a stab of pain. I grab his arm, and hold on tight enough to stop him. "Darien, hey. Don't talk like that, all right? You don't have to leave."

He tries to shake me off, but I won't let him. I hold on stubbornly. He finally raises his head to look at me, and his eyes are still dark with pain. "It's true!" he hisses, his voice shaking. "You know it! I get crazy, I go nuts. You know that! I'm evil, Hobbes! _Evil_!"

__

Christ. I've never seen him like this before. The note of rising hysteria in his voice shakes me, but I don't let it show. "Wait a minute! Hold on, there! You're not evil, okay? That's a bunch o' crap!"

"It's true!"

"No, it ain't!"

"_Yes it is_!" he hisses, his eyes wide and wild. "I can't be trusted, Hobbes! I tried to kill you! Remember? You shouldn't even let me near you! Don't you know that?"

He's really starting to scare me. "Shut up! Just shut up! Don't gimme that bullshit, Fawkes!_ That's the gland in your head! It ain't YOU!" _I yell, shaking him hard.

I've never done that to him before. It finally gets to him. Breaks through his fog of hurt and self pity, and shocks him into momentary silence. He blinks at me, his chest heaving, his eyes full of hurt and despair, and I try like hell to figure out what to say next. How to calm him down, get him off this self pity kick.

__

All I know is, this has gotta stop. It doesn't even matter if it's me, or hurting people in general that's making him crazy. Either way, it's gone too far. This is worse than self pity, it's turned into self hatred; and he's wallowing in it. Focusing on it to the point where he can't see straight. Time for some shock treatment. 

I narrow my eyes, make my voice hard and cold. "You think we're so different, Gland Boy? You think you can't be trusted, but I can?"

That shocks him so much that he stops trying to pull away, and gives me this confused look. "What do you -- of course! I trust you with my life, Bobby! You know that!"

"You know what I mean, kid!" I growl, unrelenting. "You think I take Zoloft for fun? Think I ended up at the Agency by accident?"

Darien lowers his head. A dull flush stains his cheeks, and he doesn't answer. 

__

He doesn't wanna talk about this. Tough shit -- he's gonna have to. I gotta keep at him. I'll find out how much his self hatred has to do with me later. For now, I just wanna make him stop this. Stop running off every time I hurt him, and most of all, stop hating himself so much that he wants to die. I tighten my grip on his arm, and shake him again. Not so hard this time, just enough to let him know I'm serious. "You think you got a corner on crazy, Fawkes? Huh?"

He stays silent, and I can still feel the darkness in him. _Don't think I'm getting through to him. He's wavering, hovering on the edge of another breakdown_. _I'm afraid he still might give in completely to fear and self pity, and take off on me. Do something stupid again. Maybe even something fatal, this time._ _Goddamn stubborn kid! What's it gonna take?_

Finally, Fawkes answers. "No," he mutters. 

__

But I can tell he's lying. _So, I was right! He hasn't really been thinking about my problems at all. Or maybe he just hasn't got a clue how bad they are. Or else he's slipped into some kinda fantasy, some kinda hero worship thing where he doesn't see 'em at all._ _Jesus! He's gotta be far gone, if he's started kiddin' himself about me. Idolizing me or something. That's gotta stop, too. He's gotta face up to the truth about both of us, if he's gonna make it. If we are…._

He doesn't answer me, so I keep going. _"_Think you're the only one in this bed who's got problems? Is that what you think, Fawkes?"

Finally, Darien swallows hard, and shakes his head. He sneaks a peek at me from under his long lashes, and I see real remorse in his eyes. His face loses its half-crazed look. His eyes soften, and it's like I can see his inner focus changing. See it center around me now, instead of him. And that does just what I hoped it would. I feel the tension drain out of the arm I'm holding, see the craziness, the desperation leave his face. "No," he says quietly at last. "I know things aren't easy for you either, Bobby. I know that."

__

Ha. He doesn't know the half of it! Still, that's not entirely his fault. I've never told him how bad it is. If anything, I've hidden most of it from him, because I didn't want him to feel sorry for me. So I let that slide_._ "Okay then. That's the good news -- you're not alone in that. In case you haven't noticed, you're not the only headcase here."

Fawkes just nods. "So you're saying, if I'm Frankenstein, you're Igor?"

I smile. "Somethin' like that."

But I can't let it go at that. I take a deep breath, 'cause that was the easy part. Getting him to see past himself. This is the tough part. "But here's the bad news, Fawkesy. Sometimes, you just gotta do the best you can with the cards you get dealt, my friend. Even if they suck, even if you think there's no way you can win, you gotta keep playing."

He shakes his head. "Don't you think I've tried?" 

He sounds bitter, but I don't back down. "Not hard enough, Fawkesy. Look -- we're partners. We're friends, right? You're supposed to trust me. Come to me when you need help. You don't have to get through stuff all alone. But you tried to off yourself, without even tellin' me how bad things were. Didn't you?" I hold his gaze until he flushes again, and looks away.

He shrugs, a little sullen. "I tried to tell you, but you didn't wanna hear it."

I wince a little. "Okay, I admit, maybe I missed some signals. I thought you were makin' a pass --"

"I was," he admits, with a small, reluctant smile.

It's my turn to shake my head. "Way to go, Fawkes. That's thinkin' with your dick."

He shoots me this glance that's sullen and smoldering, all at once. "Well, in case you haven't noticed," he shoots back, "you're hot, Hobbesy. I got distracted. So sue me!"

That gets to me. Even in the middle of this, I feel this surge of heat down below my belt, at the look in his eyes, at hearing him say he thinks I'm hot. But unlike the kid, I don't let that get in the way of what I'm trying to do here. "You couldn't've just told me? If you'd said, "'Hey, Hobbes, I'm depressed. I feel so bad I wanna drown myself,' you think I'd've thrown you out?"

Fawkes heaves a sigh, and shakes his head. "No."

"Okay then. Next time, spell it out for me, wouldja? I mean, I know we're partners and we're on the same wavelength, but I can't always read your devious little criminal mind there, Fawkesy," I tease him, trying to lighten things up a bit. 

He smiles a little. "Okay. I hear ya."

Good. I have this deep sense of relief, that we finally got that out in the open. And maybe even settled. But we're not quite done yet. I still have something important to tell him, and he probably won't wanna hear it. "The thing is, Fawkes -- if I can live with bein' less than perfect, then you're gonna have to, too." 

The smile fades from his face. "I guess."

"Damn right, my friend. But it doesn't have to be this bad. I'll help you, okay? I'll find a way to make things better. I promise."

He swallows hard, but then he nods. Reaches out and touches my arm for a second. "Okay. Thanks, man." 

I finally relax again, for the first time since he started spouting off about being evil. _That's better_, I think. I loosen my tight, bruising grip on his arm. I stroke him lightly instead, like you'd soothe a frightened animal. _Easy, big guy. Easy_…. I search his eyes. He looks better. Not so sick, not so scared now. But he's still avoiding my eyes, so I know he's not completely out of the woods yet. And I think I know what's still bothering him.

So I switch tactics. Time for an apology. I say softly, "I'm sorry I said you were playing, before. I know you're not." I swallow hard, wondering why this is so hard to say. "I'm not either, Darien."

Darien just nods, but the tightness in his face eases a little more. 

__

So far, so good, I think. "Maybe neither of us are gonna win any Sanity awards. Maybe we're both freaks. But we're doin' the best we can, right?" I stroke his arm gently, waiting with bated breath, knowing he still hasn't made up his mind about this yet. About us. He could still flip out. Change his mind, and decide to leave me. "Right?"

Finally, Darien lifts his head again. And this time, there's the hint of a smile in his eyes. "Yeah. You're right. We may be freaks, but we're out there swinging."

I nod, relieved. Finally, I let him go, knowing he finally turned the corner. Somewhere inside, my little Fawkes sensors, that've gotten so sharp lately, tell me that we just left the danger zone. _He decided to stay. Better yet, he decided not to give up on himself. _"Damn right! And we got each other. You know that too, right?"

This time, Darien doesn't hesitate. The pain starts to fade from his eyes. They warm up, and he smiles, really smiles at me. "Yeah. Oh yeah."

I let out the breath I was holding. Finally, all my hesitation, all my worries, go out the window. 

__

It's time. I know it. I feel it. _He decided to stay, decided not to give up on himself; and he needs me. I need him, too. Man, do we need each other_. Suddenly, nothing else matters. I just want him, more than anything. I grab his arm again, and pull him towards me. "Okay then. Get down here, ya big freak." 

I pull Darien down on top of me. Down, so I can feel his heart beating fast, too fast, like mine is. Down, while I smile up into his surprised eyes. Down, so I can kiss him again, like I did on the beach.

But I feel awkward. Excited, but scared. Still a little tense from our confrontation just now. Plus, this is the first time I've ever had a big, hot guy in my bed. And I want him, but it's just -- different. I'm about to cross a very big line, and I get a little nervous. Forget my own strength, and pull him down a bit too hard. Darien kind of crashes into me, and our noses bump.

"Ouch…" Darien pulls back reflexively. He rubs his nose, smiling, and my heart hits the floor. _Oh, shit. He's laughing at me! _It's my worst nightmare, come true. _I don't know how to do this. I'm screwing it up! This was a mistake --_

I'm so embarrassed, I wish the floor would open up and swallow me. _Aw, crap_. _I can't take this!_

"Sorry," I mutter. With a muffled curse, I let him go. Try to move, to pull away, get out from under him. But Darien catches me this time. Grabs my shoulders and shifts his weight instinctively, to keep me pinned down. "No, wait! Hey there, little tiger," he says softly. "Take it easy." 

Now the tables are turned. This time, it's Darien who's keeping me from leaving. Despite his slender build, he's strong, and between his grip and his weight on top of me, I'd have to really fight him to get free. After so many years of hand-to-hand, I can judge that kind of equation to a tee. Though I know I could do it, and it pisses me off that he won't let go, I'm not mad enough about it to want to hurt him to get loose, either. So I give in. Stop struggling and look up at him instead, readying myself for disappointment. Dreading the derision I expect to see in his eyes. _I just blew it, and being Darien, now he's gonna tease me about it. Well, at least it'll give me an excuse to pull away when he's done_, I think bleakly. 

To my surprise, though, Darien's not laughing. "You just caught me by surprise there. No big deal." He smiles down at me, but it's not a mocking smile. It's warm and real. "Bobby," he says, so soft that it's like a caress. Then he lowers his head again, until our lips are just touching. "We can take it slower," he whispers against my mouth. "Slow can be good.…" He closes his eyes and kisses me. Lightly, gently, slowly. 

Funny, but it's not so much his gentleness that puts me at ease, it's the hunger behind it. What he's holding back. I can feel his heart beating, thudding against his ribs. I can feel how much he wants me, and that tells me he's not just playing around. _I was worrying for nothing_. I feel a surge of relief. _This is gonna be okay. All I haveta do is relax. Relax and go with it…._ So I try. I reach up and touch him. Put my hands on his shoulders and stroke him while we kiss. 

Darien draws in a deep, shaky breath, and his heart goes even faster. His kisses get more urgent. His warm, wet tongue traces over my lips. _Let me in_, that tongue says. _Give me more…._

And I do. Without even thinking about it, I open up for him. Darien's tongue slides into my mouth just as my hands slide into his hair. I gasp at the twin sensations: cool, damp silk under my hands, and hot, probing silk in my mouth. _Oh Christ, it's so good_. I move my hands through his hair, that wild mass of hair that I was just petting. It's thick and soft, just like it was in my dreams. _It feels fucking wonderful._ I dive deep into it, wind it around my fingers, caress it while we kiss. 

Darien must like that, because he moans. This low, deep sound that's almost a purr. I move my fingers in little circles, massaging his head, and the moans get louder. I smile. _Guess playing with his hair turns him on. Good, 'cause I love touching it…. _

Before I know it, my heart is racing, and I'm moaning too. I'm riding a wave of pleasure so sudden and sharp, I almost come right there. Just from hearing him moan with pleasure, just from kissing him and touching his hair. _I can't believe it. _It's the first time in my life I've ever made a guy moan like that -- and it gets me where I live. Sends a thrill through me that's stronger than anything I ever felt before. This massive surge of desire, that makes me feel like I'm on fire. 

__

I knew it'd be like this with him. I knew it when we kissed, down on the beach. It's like this is what I've always wanted, and I just never knew it till now.

I wanna be on him. In him. 

The need's so sudden, so fierce, so new and overwhelming that it scares me. So does Fawkes, because at that same instant, I feel his hands moving over my chest. I feel cold air there, then on my shoulders, and I realize he's pulling the top of my p.j's off. And even though I already decided it was time to do this, it feels weird. _I feel like I should be stripping him. Then again, does it matter?_

Yeah. It does. Everything about this matters. He matters, so much that I can't screw this up.

Feeling confused, like I'm about to explode, I break the kiss. Tear my mouth away and drag in deep breaths. Darien doesn't protest, doesn't ask what's wrong, but he lets go of my pajamas. "Too fast?" he asks, in a low voice. His breathing is as unsteady as mine.

__

He always knows. What I'm thinking, what I'm feeling… . And that scares me, and thrills me, as much as the rest of it. "Yeah. I just --" I can't find the words. Hell, I can't even get my breath. _It's too much, too fucking fast. Too much that should be freakin' weird, but that feels way too good. I can't think. Feel like I'm falling. Feel like --_

I haven't felt this way in years. Not since Viv-- 

I feel threatened suddenly; and not just by Fawkes's big, undeniably hard male body. I feel battered by blows I didn't expect. Blows to the heart that Darien doesn't even know he's dealing. 

__

Fuck! I gotta stop for a second. I pull away from him. Out of his embrace_. _This time, he doesn't try to stop me. Feeling weird, feeling oddly naked, I button my pajama top back up again. 

"Bobby --"

I shake my head. Get up out of bed, still trying to calm my breathing. My pounding heart.

Darien's face falls. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean --"

"Don't say that," I tell him. "Don't! I'm not sorry." _I'm not sure what I am. Confused. Excited. Turned on, oh yeah. Way more than I expected. Scared, too. But I'm not sorry. Don't want him to be, either._

Darien looks confused. "Then why --?"

I shake my head. No way can I explain this to him, this cascade of conflicting feelings. This battle going on inside me, between memory and desire. Between fear, and the need to get close to someone. _I'm sure Darien's got no idea how I feel. 'Cause he's been here before. He's been with guys, he knows the territory. Besides, he never met an impulse he didn't like. I'm not like that. I can't be that loose. I gotta go a little slower. Think it through_. "I just need some time," I say desperately. "A few minutes."

Time to fight the battle. Win the war, or lose it. Time to _decide_. 

"Okay," Darien says, but I know him. I know when he's lying. _This isn't okay. Not with him. He thinks it's his fault. He doesn't understand how it is for me. That I can't just jump into this with him. That it's not just another fuck. There's nothing casual about it, and I gotta figure out if I can really do that_. _If I can take what might happen after_…. _If he can, too. _

I turn and look at him, and his head's hanging. _How can I ask for a time-out in a way that won't hurt him? _I wrack my brain for an excuse. "I just need to take a shower. Five minutes, okay? I just … feel dirty. Funky. I got sand all over me."

Darien gives me this look: a raised eyebrow, a skeptical gaze I know all too well_. _

I groan silently_. He's so smart, I should've known better than to feed him a half truth anyway. I should've known he'd know. _So I quit stalling. Take a step closer, and tell him the truth. "Come on, Darien. I just want a few minutes to think. That's all."

I hold my breath. He's so impulsive, I half expect him to blow up. Tell me to go to hell. Say something like, "If you've gotta think about it, you obviously don't want me. So I'm outta here!" But to my surprise, he doesn't get angry. He just nods. But he's looking down again, not meeting my eyes. And he's quiet. Way too quiet. That makes me nervous. 

I go back to the bed. Bend over and kiss him. At first, he doesn't respond. But then, almost like it's against his will, his mouth warms and moves against mine. His arms come up, and wind around my neck. "Five minutes," I breathe against his lips. "And if you're not right here when I get back, I'll hunt ya down, like I said. Got it?"

That does it. Finally, Darien looks at me again and smiles. "Got it."

But when I try to straighten up again, he holds onto my neck. He lays his forehead against mine, like he did on the beach. "Okay. Five minutes, partner," he says softly. "And if you're not out by then … I'll hunt _you_ down."

Then he lets go, and I head for the bathroom. "Sounds like a threat," I say over my shoulder.

Darien grins. "Oh, believe me -- it is."

*************************

__

Five minutes. Bobby said, five minutes. I tried to smile at him when he went into the bathroom, tried to act confident, but that was just an act. Inside, I'm scared _. First I was freaking, but he got me through that -- and now he's the one who's freaking! Shit. I don't understand. Why now, just when things were getting good? _I'm afraid of what that means. _I thought he liked me kissing him, but maybe not. _

That five minutes is gonna feel like forever. Already does, and it hasn't even been -- I look over at his clock. _It hasn't even been one minute yet! Great_.

I hear the sound of water, of the shower turning on, and I think about Bobby standing under it. Bobby naked. That makes me hot, all over again. I swallow hard. _I didn't need him to take a shower. I wouldn't've cared if he hadn't gotten clean first, before we made love. He felt good to me. He smelled good, too. Like sweat and sand and something else that's just him. His skin's so incredible -- so warm and brown, and wow, then there's his muscles._

__

God, _I want him._ It cuts through me, this wave of desire that's so hot, so deep it hurts. _I want him so much, whenever he touches me, I feel like I'm gonna come out of my skin. Like I can hardly breathe_. _I need him_. 

I can feel my heart beating too fast, feel an aching in my chest. _Please, don't let him pull away. Don't let him back out on me. Not now. If he does that -- if he says no again…. It might not kill me, but I know I'll wish I was dead._

I think about that dream again, my damn nightmare, and my fear rises. _He said he had to take a shower because he felt dirty. I thought he meant because of the sand we got all over us at the beach. But what if it was something else? What if it was me? Is that why he's in there? Because of what they did to me in prison? Is he revolted because I didn't wake up in time to let go of him, and he found an ex-con holding him when he woke up? Is he disgusted? Or afraid that I might have AIDS? Is that what he's scared of? Please, no. Don't let it be that!_

But it could be. I know it could, and anxiety starts to tie my stomach into knots. 

__

Bobby's a neat freak, and he's paranoid anyway. I can see him being totally freaked out by the thought of disease. Especially AIDS. Does he really think I'd do that to him, though? That I'd expose him, if I had it? In any case, I don't. I'm sure, because my Keeper tests me for it periodically. I could tell him that, but would he believe me?

The more I think about it, the more fears flood my mind. One leads to another. They crowd in on me, shadowy, gray, multiplying by the minute. _Bobby could be afraid of my demon, too. Or he could be dealing with some problem of his own, that I don't even know about._ _The point is, he's got lots of reasons to say no. He could come out of there in five minutes and tell me this is all wrong. That I misunderstood him, and that he doesn't wanna have sex with me, or even kiss me again. Ever. He could say this was all a mistake._

That thought makes me feel sick. Helpless. _Maybe I should tell him the truth about what happened in San Quentin. Give him some details. Maybe it'd help him understand, if I explain to him about the dream. Tell him that I couldn't help it._ _There were seven of them, a whole gang -- I couldn't defend myself. Nobody could have, not against all of them. That's why they did it like that, the bastards. So no one could stand up to them, or stop them. _

But the thought of telling him that almost chokes me. I've held that nightmare inside for years. Maybe too long. I'm not sure I could let it out now, not even to Bobby.

__

I wanna tell him that it wasn't my fault. That _I hated it. That it was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I was in the infirmary for almost two weeks, after. It almost killed me_…. But I can't say it. _It wouldn't do me any good now anyway._ _Since Bobby's in the shower, he wouldn't even hear me._ _I had my chance to tell him before, and I blew it._

I bite my lip. _Five minutes_, _he said_. I look over at the clock. _It's only been two now. Shit! I can't stand this!_

I get up and pace. I can't sit still. _This waiting is making me come unglued_. I tell myself, _This is crazy._ _You're just being paranoid. He's not gonna reject you, he's just taking a break. He's never done this before, and he got nervous. That's all. It's understandable. But Bobby wouldn't turn me away now, wouldn't back out on me like that now, not when we're so close….. He wouldn't judge me, either. Won't reject me for something I couldn't help._

But part of me knows that's not entirely true. Not about Bobby, or me, either. _The first time I went to prison, I couldn't help it. But the last time, when I was with Garrett … that was different. Or was it? It was all about survival. That's what prison's about: surviving. But how could I ever make Bobby understand that? He's never been there. He can't know what it's like. _

I'm up against a wall, and I know it. _The cold, hard truth is, Bobby could judge me. He could reject me, too. He wouldn't be the first. I've seen that look a hundred times. A thousand. In the eyes of almost everyone I met after my first stretch in prison -- including my own brother. Even Kevin never looked at me the same after that. He didn't just see it as one more failure on my part, one more screw-up. I think he felt it was proof positive that I was a loser. That I'd never amount to anything. Can't say he stopped caring about me, but he sure as hell lost all respect for me. With strangers, it was even worse than that. In their eyes, being an ex-con branded me. Made me impure. Evil. Corrupt. Not to be trusted. Not to be touched…._

Sometimes, I think I still see that look in the Keeper's eyes, and I hate it.

I try to hang onto hope that Bobby's different. _After all, he must've known about this, or at least suspected, long before now. But he isn't like all the others. He didn't judge me. He never looked at me like that. Not once. _

Or did he? A memory slips through my mind, and turns me cold. _I felt how he stiffened up, while I was kissing him just now. He was freaked. That's why he stopped me and went into the shower._

I feel bleak.

__

Maybe he has judged me. Just like all the rest of 'em. He may not've said it, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been thinking it. I hang my head, and take a deep breath. I don't want to think that about Bobby, but it's hard to believe that he could be that different, different from almost anyone I've ever met. Better even than my own brother. It's difficult to believe that he could look past my record, past my past, and see _me_. 

__

Please, please --!

I'm so desperate I'm praying, without even knowing who I'm praying to_. Not sure I believe in God. I mean, if He exists, where was he when the Nazis were in charge? Where was He when I was in Quentin getting gang raped? Still -- if there is someone listening, please don't let Bobby get freaked out by my past! I want him. I need him! Please --_

I look at the clock again.

__

What's taking so long? He said he just wanted to take a shower…. But he also said, my promise to come in after him sounded like a threat. A threat! What'd he mean by that? 

I look at the clock again_. Two more minutes to go. _I pace some more, my heart racing. _Come on,_ _Bobby. Hurry up, dammit!_

**********************

I don't know what to do. I stand under the spray of hot water, letting it wash all the dirt and sand off me, and I'm seized by doubt. Everything that seemed so right out there, while I was kissing Darien, seems nuts in here. 

__

I must be crazy, for even thinking about going to bed with my own partner. With a guy. A guy who just tried to off himself! _I'm supposed to protect him, but I already screwed up at that, or he wouldn't have taken that goddamn swim. And now I wanna fuck him? What're the odds that I'll do any better at that? Even if I do -- if it works out okay, if I do all right in the sack and don't mess him up even more by fumbling around -- then I'll just wanna be with him again. I'll wanna be his lover. I know that. But I'm not sure Darien will want that. I'm not even sure he could handle it. And if he can't, it might screw things up between us. _

Even if he can, even if he does want more than a fling, how in the hell will we ever keep it from the Fat Man? He's spooky, that guy. Got eyes in the back of his head. He sees everything. And Fawkes is so impulsive, so "let it all hang out" that if we get involved, he'll never be able to hide it. I know Darien. He'll think it's just a game; he won't take it seriously enough. Sooner or later, he'll slip up somehow. He'll tease me, or try to kiss me at the Agency or some dumb thing, and the Official will find out, and I'll be out on my ass. And they'll never find anyone to partner up with Fawkes who'll care as much about him as I do. So if they let me go, he'll probably wind up dead.

Then again, he almost wound up dead tonight anyway. Not because I was fucking him, but maybe because I wasn't. Because no one has been. So he got so damn down, so lonely and depressed and scared that he thought he couldn't take it anymore. I still have to find out what that was all about, if he was just worried about what the gland does to him, or if there was more to it than that. But I know that was part of it.

Still….

What'll he do if I turn him down again? What if it shoves him off the deep end again, like before? I close my eyes, frustrated. _Why is it, when I try to be logical and rational about this, that I can't see the right answer? It's like no matter what I do, whether I have sex with him or not, Darien'll wind up dead! _

Despite the warm water, I feel a chill. _That's gotta be wrong. I can't let that happen. There's gotta be a way through all this. I gotta find one. _I turn around. Turn my back to the shower spray, and let it beat on my shoulders for awhile. I take deep breaths. Try to clear my head and let my anxieties drain away, like my shrink taught me. _What is it he's always saying? Think of it from a different perspective?_

__

Maybe that's what I oughtta do. Maybe I'm coming at this from the wrong direction. Maybe I'm thinking too much, period. Worrying too much, like I always do. Getting paranoid. Seeing the negatives, instead of the positives. Sure, there's all kinds of risks involved. All sorts of things could go wrong, if I go to bed with Fawkes. But that's just the down side. It might make some things a lot better, too. Might take our loneliness away. It might give us both what we need. And I've taken risks all my life. Why stop now? Especially since we've both got problems already. Problems that getting together might help. 

I shut off all my questions for a minute. Try to turn off logic and rationality, and look way down inside myself. Into that deep, dark, scary place we call the heart. _I see two lonely guys in there. Darien and me. He's lonely and scared. I'm lonely and empty inside. I know he needs me. And I need him, too. He wants me, and I sure as hell want him. _

"I'd t-take a bullet for you, Bobby." 

Who else on this planet would say that to me? Or do that for me? No one.

Fawkes wants me. He's beautiful, and he's out there waiting for me; and I want him. So I can either go with that, follow my heart, and see what happens -- or I can listen to my head. Do the smart thing, and play it safe. 

I reach up and turn off the shower, and listen to the sudden silence. The sound of safety. Of solitude. The sound of emptiness, of loneliness.

__

I know that sound so well. _I hate that sound. I've been hearing it for years. Playing it safe for years. And where did it get me?_

Think it's time to change that.

Think I already left safety behind, on Black's beach. 

****

End Part 2

Email the author: dlyonesse@hotmail.com

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